Rebirth
by Jennistar and Mistress Maerad
Summary: Is that really what you think?" Cadvan said, and his voice was not angry, like she had imagined it would be, but merely sad, almost pitying, as if he pitied her. "You think you are nothing to me?" "Maybe I was once," Maerad whispered. "But not now."
1. Prologue

**Ta-da! Here is our (MM and Jennistar) joint fanfic! (Finally) Okay, here goes.**

_You know...  
__You pray...  
__This can't be the way  
__You cry...  
__You say...  
__Something's gotta change  
__And mend this porcelain heart  
__Of mine..._

_**-BarlowGirl, Porcelain Heart**_

Maerad wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer and closer to herself, aching to feel his hands on her, his lips moving strongly against her own, just as he had on that day in the battle. He accepted the embrace, and wrapped his arms around her, and she shivered slightly.

But then suddenly came the memories, as she had dreaded they would: overwhelming, powerful images that made her inner core tremble with fright. She shuddered as they came, faster and faster, taking over her senses until all she knew was the darkness within. She saw Hem, falling to the ground, a poisoned arrow in his side. Saliman clutching his wounded arm and staring up in despair at the blackened sky. Against the sky she saw the Iron Tower, and figures falling all around the blood-spattered walls to lie ever still on the ground. Then she saw the Nameless, who stood before her in all his divine, yet evil and unearthly power, grinning and illuminated by the fell light of the purest evil, ready to strike her down until she was nothing more, nothing more...

She screamed in her horror and anguish and wrenched herself away from him, and then collapsed on the ground, sobbing. Would she ever be able to will away those memories that came with her lover's fatal kiss? She longed to be able to feel him without those mind-numbing images controlling her; images that would forever haunt her dreams. She wanted to will away the blood on her hands that made her unable to kiss him, love him as she should...they should...

Maerad felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Cadvan. His eyes were sad. Not another word could describe them. Simply...sad.

"Cadvan..." she coughed, "I...I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he whispered. "'Tis not your fault that memories extinguish our..." he trailed off, and Maerad knew what he meant. Their love. Oh, that wretched, wretched day that he had first kissed her, the day in battle, she hadn't thought of what would happen next. She hadn't thought about how his love (and their first love, their first kiss) would be remembered as something horror-filled and terrifying, simply because of all that had happened on that day. She hadn't realized that she would never be able to tell him of her love again, just because she had killed, and seen people killed, on that day.

Maerad realized this all in the blink of an eye, and felt her heart sink down into her stomach, where it lay there, thumping madly and in protest of all she was about to do.

"I love you," she said, and with that came the memories again. She willed them away with massive effort and mental strength, and turned back to him, her eyes wide and tear-filled in her misery.

"I can't do it, Cadvan," she whispered, looking down at her trembling hands. "I can never say...those words, to you. I can never kiss you, touch you..."

"...because of what happened in battle," he finished in a hoarse whisper, his own palms sweating. "Maerad, surely you can't..."

"But I must," she breathed, and then looked back up. "Cadvan, we must. We must go our separate ways."

* * *

She stood beside Darsor a few days later, stroking the great horse's head.

_Protect him, my friend, _she said.

_But of course, Lady Maerad._

She smiled through her tears. _Thank you._

He nickered, and she looked into his liquid eyes, so dark and mournful in their usual ebony gaze which was now so mystifying and troubled. _We must, _she told him firmly, answering his unasked question.

He looked away, and didn't answer. She didn't expect him to.

Then Cadvan came around from tying the bags onto the saddle, and faced her. Their hair blew around their faces softly in the gentle breeze, and they stood like two grave figures in a time-stopped world upon the grassy hill as the sun set slowly across the western horizon, blazing the skies with gold and pink, then fading to a star-filled night near the edges of the world. Then suddenly he seized her hands; but she was quicker and looked away as he leaned forwards, so he only grazed the edges of her neck with his lips, making them want each other even more. She looked back at him, drawing away.

He smiled weakly. "I had to try."

"You know it's for the best," she said painfully, hating the words with every sound they made as they were issued from her deceitful lips.

He only looked away, as Darsor had. Both horse and man didn't think it was right. And, somewhere inside her troubled heart, Maerad knew it wasn't as well. But she had to do it. For herself. For Cadvan. For them, and for all of Edil-Amarandh.

"Besides," she said in a strangled voice, "I'll write every week."

"Every week?" he raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Yes," she said, the edges of her lips quirking into a small smile. "And you will, too?" she questioned.

"Of course. It'll be like being here with you," he said softly as he mounted up. She could only nod. He looked down at her, a noble figure upon his black-coated horse, but his eyes were pleading, like a child's. But she shook her head ever so slightly, and he sighed once more, tipped his head in farewell, and cantered away. She watched him fade into the haze of distance as the pain in her heart grew, like a knife being pushed deeper and deeper into one's ribs. She put her hands to her breast, as if to weakly attempt to stop the chill beating of her dull heart, for surely it did no good now.

She couldn't bear the pain of watching him leave her, and turned to walk back to Innail, the fresh tears streaming down her cheeks openly now; she didn't care who saw.

_Almost like being there with you, but not quite._

**so sweet...chappie one up soon! Even though we are the queens of procrastination. :D**


	2. Letters

**Here is chapter 1 – written by Jennistar (the prologue was by Mistress Maerad and was superb if I say so myself!)…let's hope you like this part as much…**

**Disclaimer: We don't own these characters or the songs we quote…unfortunately.**

**NB: All sentences in the letters which have - - between them are sentences which the writer of the letter has scribbled out/deleted. I used strikethrough on Word but it wouldn't transfer onto here...(cries) So please bear that in mind when you read. I hope it is still clear enough!**

_What if I had never let you go  
Would you be the man I used to know  
If I'd stayed  
If you'd tried  
If we could only turn back time  
But I guess we'll never know_

_**- 'What If' – Kate Winslet**_

**Letters**

It was raining again. Maerad sighed and paused in her paperwork to stare out of the latticed window into the dark expanse beyond, listening to the comforting whisper of water against glass. Her study – the highest room in the tower and the best room in Innail – was warm and cosy despite the tempest outside, thanks to the combined heat of the fire in the grate behind her desk and the candles in holders all over the room. Incense blew from the burning logs around the room, making Maerad feel drowsy, and the walls seemed to glow a ruddy crimson due to the orange glow of the flames. It was like she was cocooned in the very core of a huge fire, Maerad thought dreamily. Untouched, unaffected and unharmed by the raging world outside. The Fire Lily where she should be…

Her eyes fell on the mess of letters and other paperwork on her desk and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards ironically. Maybe not _exactly _untouched by the world, then…

_So much paperwork…_She had not thought there would be so much when she had taken on the role of First Bard of Innail; if she had, Maerad decided grimly, she would not have accepted. But here she was, self-confessed First Bard, sitting in a study in the middle of a stormy night when all she should really be doing was sleeping, reading badly written letters from farmers who couldn't decide whose cow was whose and long reports from other Schools full of ridiculous trivia and nothing _worthy_, nothing _substantial_…

But this was her job. This was her place. This was her home. She couldn't argue with it.

She exhaled loudly to fill the silence and pulled a new sheaf of bound letters towards her – and stopped in quick surprise when she saw the one sat on the top of all the others. A plain envelope, glimmering yellow in the firelight, but stamped in one corner with the unmistakeable sign of Norloch…

She snatched the thing up quickly, opened it _most _untidily, and let the contents fall out on the desk.

A letter – a long letter, almost three sides – and some sort of dried, pressed flower tumbled onto the polished woodwork. She studied the flower for a moment – it was a pretty thing with orange petals and a long stalk, one she did not know the name of – then turned her attention to the letter, reading avidly.

_Dear Maerad,_

_Hoping this letter finds both you and Innail well. Business is the same here in Norloch, i.e. tiresome and wearisome but necessary. I cannot count the amount of times I have been called upon to place judgement on petty squabbles – and most of them made by Bards, we who should know better! _

_I heeded your advice about the scouts and sent out three troops to the North as of last week. The rumours you are receiving in Innail are mostly the same that we are hearing here, though yours are heightened in urgency and this concerns me deeply since you are closer to the North than we. If Enkir is indeed abroad in the North than it can only mean trouble. The scouts I have sent should provide more information, but in the meantime keep your ears keen and your eyes open – I want to hear every single rumour you hear. Perhaps writing to Hem and seeing if he can tell you anything would be beneficial – isn't he visiting your relatives in Murask? _

_Most of the First Circle believe it is foolish to place such emphasis on a bunch of half-imagined rumours, but you and I both know that keeping an ear out – even for trivia – is the greatest thing one can do, especially when it concerns the Dark. I simply remind them of the ignorance of Norloch's First Circle in the Time of Sharma, and that generally silences them._

_Apart from the rumours, all is well here. _

_- - Nerili and I are getting - -_

_- - Nerili and I are - -_

_- - Nerili has agreed to - -_

_Yes, all is well. I received a letter from Saliman yesterday, telling me that the rebuilding of Turbansk is going well, and that all Turbanskians are keen on making it, in his words, 'even more splendid than before the Time of Sharma, though that is, of course, almost impossible'. Knowing how passionate the Turbanskians are for both their fallen and new city, I predict that it will be finished before long and end up _much_ more remarkable than the first! - - __We should visit it when it is completed - -_

_Write soon._

_Cadvan._

_P.S. The flower is one that I found the other day whilst riding in the vale – it is a very beautiful bloom and it caught my eye. When I returned, I looked it up and found that it is a very rare flower which blooms only during the autumn and for only a limited time. Its name in the Speech is 'Elednor'! 'The Fire Lily'! Due to its orange petals, I suppose. I thought it perfect for you. C._

Maerad read the whole letter twice, then put it down and stared blankly at the window again. A year, she thought bitterly. A year since they had seen each other. It was too long. Two _weeks_ was too long, if she was brutally honest with herself. And yet neither of them seemed to have the time to spare in which to meet – there was always something to oversee or sort out in either Norloch or Innail or both, or there was another School one of them had to visit, or a Meet to attend, or others to visit. And of course neither of them had the courage to insist on a meeting with the other – they hardly mentioned each other at all in their letters, only to talk business or to confirm the other was well. It was unusual to be sent something as thoughtful as a flower bearing her Name these days…

She glanced back at the bloom, lying motionless and dry on the desk, and picked it up with two fingers, looking at it a bit more carefully. It was delicate, but vivid and, yes, quite beautiful. Like Maerad, if she thought about it that way. She read the last line of Cadvan's letter again. _I thought it perfect for you._ Did he mean it only in the name, or had he noticed what she had? That beauty, that fragility combined with that strength? _It is a very beautiful bloom and it caught my eye,_ he had written. What did he mean by that…?

She shook herself and put the flower back on the table with more force than was needed. She had promised herself that she would not do this; she would not analyse every line that Cadvan wrote, trying to decipher all or any subconscious feelings behind the words. There was no point to it. They had made their choices long ago.

She scanned the words that he had scrawled out. _Nerili and I are getting_ what? Could it be –

Marriage?

She felt a lump spring to her throat and fiercely blinked away sudden tears. No. She was not going to speculate. If he didn't want to tell her then she didn't want to know. He never told her anything about – about – _that _sort of thing…She had only found out about Nerili when she had visited Norloch last year and she had been there…and she had never confronted him, never asked him why he hadn't told her because it might have brought up certain issues, certain feelings, that she couldn't discuss with him, that she could never discuss with him, not since…

She read the other line he had scribbled out. _We should visit it when it is completed._ But deleted. Why didn't he want to visit the new Turbansk with her? Why wouldn't he let himself suggest it? Why couldn't he just…write it…?

Ten years, she whispered to herself. Ten years since they had defeated Sharma – thus ending an era now called the Time of Sharma – ten years since that kiss, ten years since their decision…

And was she _still _not over it?

She groaned aloud and put her head on the desk, closing her eyes and listening to the combined comforting noises of the fire crackling nearby and the rain on the window. So _complicated_. It was all so complicated now. Just when she thought she had her life sorted out – Innail, Camphis, everyone…and then another letter would arrive and she would be plunged back into these confusing feelings again like a twig plunged onto a blazing fire, and she would burn, burn with desire, and guilt, and sadness. Every letter he sent made her miss him all over again, and yet if he ever stopped sending them she would die of loneliness.

She opened her eyes and looked sidelong across the desk at the dried flower. He still cares, she said to herself. No need to analyse everything he writes. He still thinks enough about you to write to you and to send you…this. She reached along the desk and took the flower again, sniffing it curiously to see if it had a fragrance, but all she could smell was a mixture of parchment and something else which was immediately familiar to her but which she could not pinpoint exactly.

"By the Light, Maerad of Pellinor, stop it," she scolded aloud, then sat back up and pushed her hair out of her eyes, reaching for paper and a pen to write back.

Every time she wrote a letter to him, it was harder to know what to say.

_Dear Cadvan,_

_Received your letter. All is indeed well in Innail – autumn has set in firmly and the days are full of clouds and rain, but that is the curse of living near the mountains, I suppose. Life continues smoothly, and the worst I have had to deal with are irritable farmers – much worse than your Bards, I envy you them!_

_The rumours of Enkir in the North are still abroad, and it is hard to know who to trust these days. I have divined more, but it is all bits and pieces half remembered from travellers – important but unreliable. They say that Enkir sets up a new Dark Army in the North, though the exact location is unknown – I hear that the Jussacks have been threatened of late by some of the new army's soldiers and some Jussack camps have been burned. But again, it could be that the Jussacks quarrelled amongst themselves and burned their own camps; you can never be sure. Your scouts should be able to verify these rumours. I also wrote to Hem as soon as I wrote to you last week, and he reports that there are gossips in Murask, tales of a darkness nearby, getting stronger every day and threatening the borders of Murask itself. He urges me to be alert, and agrees that sending out scouts is a good idea. He is doing well in Murask and Sirkana has taken to him (in a way, I think, that she could never do with me, since my Pilanel blood is not as apparent in me as it is in Hem) and she feeds him well, so he is happy! I am glad that Saliman is enjoying his work in Turbansk._

_Life is as good as it ever was in Innail - - __except that my relationship with Camphis is - -_

_- - Camphis is not so - -_

_- - I do not think Camphis and I will last - -_

_- - I miss you - -_

_Send me news at once when the scouts return. If the news is still shady, perhaps it will be beneficial for you to travel to the North and find out the certainties for yourself - - __and then you could visit Innail - -_

_Waiting for your reply._

_Maerad._

_P.S. The 'Fire Lily' flower is indeed very beautiful, and what chance that you found such a rare thing! - - __It reminds me of you - -__ I shall treasure it. M._

Maerad sat back and read the letter she had just written, feeling dreadful. It was no good, she thought, she was as bad as Cadvan in talking of anything except the usual and business. She had a block just as he did when talking of anything personal like Camphis. It was that block which would eventually estrange them, she thought grimly. If they did not meet up soon, their closeness would fade as if it had never been. And she could not bear it if that happened.

She looked at the letter again and read the last thing that she had scrawled out – _It reminds me of you._ The bloom lay on the desktop, tolerating her stares. How did it remind her of him? she wondered vaguely. It should remind her of _her_, being a Fire Lily and all…

Instinctively, she took it and again sniffed it – and all at once realised what it smelled of. It was a musky, warm, comforting smell. It was the smell of Cadvan.

She dropped the dried flower on the floor, put her head again on the desk and cried bitterly. The rain was still hammering insistently, there was still paperwork to do, but Maerad knew that she could do nothing else tonight except cry and wonder – as she did mostly every night – if she had made the wrong choice in life after all.

_But I guess we'll never know._

Okay? Yes? No? Review and you get cookies! Chappie 2 up sooooon!


	3. Conflicts

**Ah! At last, I, M'n'M, have posted the next chappie. I think we truly know what a horrid procrastinator I am now...**

**Last chappie was by Jennistar, and was AMAZING!! Be sure to congratulate her!!**

**Anyway, well, here this one is! Enjoy! Next up soon...hopefully sooner than this one...**

_Because I don't know you anymore  
I don't recognize this place  
The picture frame has changed and so has your name  
We don't talk much anymore  
We keep running from the pain  
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again_

_**--Savage Garden, I Don't Know You Anymore**_

CONFLICTS

Cadvan sat, hands steepled together in front of him. He sighed in annoyance, brushing his hair back from his forehead, and glared out of the window, hating the happy sunlight that streamed through to create dancing patterns on the desk littered with papers in front of him. How dare it shine when nothing was going right!

_Cadvan, it isn't that bad, _he told himself, trying to think positively, as Neri would say, but it was bad. He looked away from the ring that caught the light on his left hand, stroking it absentmindedly as his gaze instead shifted to the pile of papers and letters on his desk. Taking care, he selected one. He read the title, then quickly put it down. He had had enough people asking for extra funds already. Some to build gardens, some to make lyres, some for this and that, bits and pieces of everything...the people just didn't realize how much money they needed. But it wasn't their fault. But it wasn't his, either. No, it wasn't. No matter what the malicious rumors they kept spreading about him said.

He let out his breath again, and found that he jumped in surprise at a knock on his door. "Come in!" he called.

The messenger at the door bowed. "Greetings, Cadvan, First Bard of Norloch."

"Welcome and Thrice Welcome, Kujun. What brings you here?"

"A letter, sir."

"Oh?"

"Yes, from Innail. The First Bard of Innail, to be precise."

He let out a barely inaudible gasp, causing the man Kujun to start a little.

Maerad. It was from Maerad

He caught his breath every time she sent him another letter. But that was foolish, he always told himself. She was - is - a friend, and her letters were merely out of kindness.

"Well, bring it here, Kujun," he said, barely suppressing the excitement in his voice.

The man stepped forward and placed it in his waiting hand, then bowed respectfully and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Cadvan waited for a moment for the messenger's footsteps to fade away, and then he quickly tore it open and let the envelope fall forgotten to the floor. He scanned the letter quickly, taking in all that she said in an instant, then reading it more slowly, breathing a little raggedly.

_Dear Cadvan,_

_Received your letter. All is indeed well in Innail – autumn has set in firmly and the days are full of clouds and rain, but that is the curse of living near the mountains, I suppose. Life continues smoothly, and the worst I have had to deal with are irritable farmers – much worse than your Bards, I envy you them!_

He laughed at this part. No, she probably didn't. He didn't, that was certain.

_The rumours of Enkir in the North are still abroad, and it is hard to know who to trust these days. I have divined more, but it is all bits and pieces half remembered from travellers – important but unreliable. They say that Enkir sets up a new Dark Army in the North, though the exact location is unknown – I hear that the Jussacks have been threatened of late by some of the new army's soldiers and some Jussack camps have been burned. But again, it could be that the Jussacks quarrelled amongst themselves and burned their own camps; you can never be sure. Your scouts should be able to verify these rumours. I also wrote to Hem as soon as I wrote to you last week, and he reports that there are gossips in Murask, tales of a darkness nearby, getting stronger every day and threatening the borders of Murask itself. He urges me to be alert, and agrees that sending out scouts is a good idea. He is doing well in Murask and Sirkana has taken to him (in a way, I think, that she could never do with me, since my Pilanel blood is not as apparent in me as it is in Hem) and she feeds him well, so he is happy! I am glad that Saliman is enjoying his work in Turbansk._

_Life is as good as it ever was in Innail - - except that my relationship with Camphis is - -_

_- - Camphis is not so - -_

_- - I do not think Camphis and I will last - -_

_- - I miss you - -_

_Send me news at once when the scouts return. If the news is still shady, perhaps it will be beneficial for you to travel to the North and find out the certainties for yourself - - and then you could visit Innail - -_

_Waiting for your reply._

_Maerad._

_P.S. The 'Fire Lily' flower is indeed very beautiful, and what chance that you found such a rare thing! - - It reminds me of you - - I shall treasure it. M._

_I shall treasure it. _

He only looked at that line. It should have made him glad, he realized. But it didn't. No, it only made all those old griefs and regrets stir in the deep thoughts of his mind where he had hidden them away for so long.

"Maerad, why?" he murmured again, for what seemed the hundredth time in his life. But he knew why. He knew it was the only way. And now they led happy lives; he was engaged to Neri, and was First Bard of Norloch, something not to be taken lightly. Maerad was First Bard of Innail, and was...

He looked closer at the letter. No, never mind, she wasn't with Camphis, apparently, if what she had scratched out was true. He suddenly felt a fierce...something, inside his heart. But no, he couldn't...think of Neri...

He swore under his breath and crumpled her letter, his bad mood flaring as the guilty thoughts arose once more. All Maerad had done was lie to him, he ranted, getting out of his chair and squinting angrily into the sun. He looked down in the courtyard, where two people were sitting together on a park bench. A man and a woman. In love. Foolishly in love. Hopelessly in love...

He turned away, his rage dissipating within him. It wasn't her fault, he said again. It really wasn't. He understood why things were the way they were, but...

Suddenly a knock at his door sounded once more.

"Enter," he said.

In came Kujun again. But Cadvan immediately noticed that something was wrong. The messenger's face was pale, and his hands was shaking, the single leaf of paper in his hand flapping as if caught in a violent wind.

"Kujun, my friend! What has happened?" Cadvan asked in concern, stepping forwards.

Then Kujun collapsed on the floor in a dead faint. Cadvan rushed forwards and lifted the man over, and stepped back in horror. There was an arrow through the man's back, the shaft with the feathers of a black crow, and Kujun's blood was staining the back of his shirt in a deep, ruddy red that spoke of hell itself. Then he saw the letter in the man's hand, and snatched it up, his eyes flying over the lines, widening in fear.

_Cadvan of Lirigon (or Norloch, should I say?)_

_I hope this finds you well. For, if you are well, then I can take pleasure in making your life most unwell. In the north, I have gathered my master's loyal friends, and I am planning a final attack on Annar, and this time, I will succeed. I just hope you know that your little games with Annar are over. It will be mine. I will avenge my master. _

_Oh, and the guard? He's the first to go._

_And where's your friend, the Fire Lily? Oh, Innail? Well, that's good, I suppose..._

_Innail is next._

_Enkir_

* * *

"Cadvan, talk to me!" Nerili screamed at him again, getting in front of his path. He sighed, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Neri..."

"Oh, don't 'Neri' me! I want to know what's happening," she said, looking at him with that quiet determination of hers.

"I'll tell you at the council, like everybody else," he said firmly.

"But Cadvan..."

"Neri, I am your fiance. I do not have to tell you everything."

"But you will, Cadvan," and her gaze was adamant.

He didn't answer, and gently pushed her aside, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come to the meeting and you'll know."

He took off down the hall.

* * *

Cadvan dashed into the First Circle, where a hasty meeting had been erected. He thrust the letter onto the table.

"What do you suppose we do?" he questioned.

The bards each read it, their faces whitening, hands clasping together nervously. Cadvan eyed them with scrutiny; surely his council couldn't cower before such things as this?

"Well," said an older bard, who, Cadvan belatedly remembered, was a relative of Nelac, "I say we tell the other schools, and ask for their opinions."

"That would be foolish!" said another, younger bard. "We must dismiss it as fancy!"

"But...but they killed Kujun," said a woman in tears, who Cadvan knew to be Kujun's wife.

"I am sorry," he said, as graciously as he could before the woman only nodded and then burst into tears. "Would you like to be excused?"

She nodded again, choking and sniffing into a handkerchief, and Cadvan helped her out of her seat and led her to the door, where he escorted her out. As soon as she was out, he closed the door behind him, but they could even hear her muffled wails through the thick oak doors.

"I think, Loke, that we must not be so rash. Enkir is powerful...and who knows? We must learn more before we take any course of action, methinks." He gazed around the council for reassurance."

"Shall we vote on it?" said Loke, still not wanting to end up having to fight.

Cadvan raised his eyebrows. "Very well."

* * *

Moments later, Cadvan was speeding down the hall, cloak flying out behind him, brain working furiously. He had to send letters out to every single school. He needed them here, in at least a week. Surely even people from far places such as Turbansk could get here within that time, if they knew how urgent it was?

"Why is this so difficult?" he asked no one in particular as he dashed into his study. Quickly he grabbed an ink pen off his desk and began writing in haste to the only town - the only person - who would understand.

_Dear Maerad,_

_I have urgent news. Enkir is planning another attack, and we must all gather here, in Norloch, in a week's time. I fear for Innail. Enkir mentioned it in his letter; he will attack it soon. - - Maerad, I fear for you - - He is coming. You must come to the meeting so we can determine a course of action._

_In haste, C._

He read it over, feeling a horrible throbbing throughout his entire body. It said nothing of what he wanted it to say, and was too quick. She would think he didn't care...especially since he crossed that one phrase out...

He sighed in frustration once more and then pushed it into an envelope and marked it with the highest seal of urgency. He didn't have time to write her a long letter. There were tasks to be completed, letters to write, and in all this mess, a wedding to plan. He couldn't sit around and write to her, especially when she barely wrote at all. No, he had to foget, and then maybe...maybe they would see each other at the meeting.

But he put those thoughts away and set Maerad's letter at the end of his desk and began writing another.

_One down, many to go._

**Oh, the tension...review!! please...please... :) **


	4. Decisions

**NB: Heeeere's chapter 3, written by your very own Jennistar! :) Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews already, and your support in our writing of this fic, we love you!!**

**Okay, enough with the mushy stuff :P we don't own these characters, we just like to make them miserable! I don't own the song quoted either.**

**DECISIONS**

_Midnight diamonds (midnight diamonds)  
Stud my heaven (stud my heaven)  
Southward burning  
Lie the jewels that eye my place  
And the warm winds (and the warm winds)  
That embrace me (that embrace me)  
Just as surely kissed your face  
Yeah these miss you nights  
They're the longest_

_(How I missed you) How I missed you  
I'm not likely to tell  
I'm a man  
And cold daylight buys the pride I'd rather sell  
(All my secrets) All my secrets  
Are a wasted affair  
You know them well_

_- Miss You Nights: G4_

It was raining again, Maerad thought as she stared glumly through the window. It was _always_ raining, always the same heavy, cold rain. The plague of living near the mountains.

Even so, it would be nice to go riding…to feel the wind in her face again, and to hear the sounds of nature around her, the whisper of the rain on the leaves of the trees, the whistling of the birds…and Imi would love it too, she had been cooped up for far too long.

She stared glumly at the pile of letters before her, and all thoughts of freedom flew from her head. There was too much work to do…she couldn't go riding today. Maybe next week, when Hem came to visit. Then she would have an excuse. It would be nice to see one of the original four again, and she missed Hem like she missed riding, excitement, freedom. It was an ache that would not go away until it was satisfied.

She pulled the first sheaf of papers towards her (_Why the three acre plot of ground near Innail's Seven-Tree Hill is mine and not that thieving Turun's, by Rundale of Innail_) and was just about to get started on it when there was a knock on the door.

"Maerad? It's me." It was Camphis's voice. She felt the familiar swoop of irritation and guilt at her irritation at the sound of it.

"Come in," she said. He was entering already, waving a letter in one hand. "A messenger from Norloch came just now – "

He watched as Maerad's eyes widened just a little and she beckoned at the letter.

"Give."

He walked over and handed it to her, keeping his solemn eyes on her eager expression as she stared at it.

"He sounded urgent," he said levelly, knowing that none of this was entering her head, and that all her attention was on the envelope and the letter inside it from _that damned Cadvan_, he finished to himself privately. "I'm not sure it's good news – " he started, but she was already opening it and running her eyes furiously down the very short message.

_Dear Maerad,_

_I have urgent news. Enkir is planning another attack, and we must all gather here, in Norloch, in a week's time. I fear for Innail. Enkir mentioned it in his letter; he will attack it soon. - - Maerad, I fear for you - - He is coming. You must come to the meeting so we can determine a course of action._

_In haste, C._

There was a long silence after she had read it twice. She kept her eyes on the paper even though she wasn't reading it. She heard Camphis say something, but didn't react until he took the letter gently out of her hands and scanned it himself silently.

"I must go," she said, when he had finished.

He glanced over at her with his deep brown eyes, set in thick, long eyelashes.

"Maerad, you can't. We need you here. If Enkir is going to attack Innail, then you _must _be here, you're the First Bard!"

"But Cadvan needs me!" she blurted out, then felt her stomach turn over and covered her mouth with her hand. Camphis said nothing, merely watching her as she battled with herself. Eventually she took the hand away from her mouth, staring down at the desk. "Norloch, I mean," she said. "I meant Norloch. Norloch needs me."

She knew as well as he that she did not mean Norloch.

"Maerad, please," Camphis said after a pause. "We need you here to protect us. What about Hem? He's coming in a week, you can't just go off to Norloch and abandon him with us."

"I wouldn't be abandoning Innail – "

"Yes, Maerad, you would!"

Maerad stood up abruptly, almost knocking her chair over.

"You don't know," she hissed furiously – she had no idea why she was lashing out at Camphis, but she couldn't do anything to stop it now it had begun. "You don't understand, you have _no idea _what lies in store, all you did during the Time of Sharma was stay in these walls and fight off Hulls! Well I _saw_ the true darkness, Camphis, I know all about it, I travelled around, I faced all sorts of weather, I faced all sorts of people, I lost my fingers, I lost my lyre and I lost my love all because of that damned Sharma, Camphis! I _know _what we are facing more than anyone alive, I _know _better than anyone what we have to do to prevent a new era of darkness and disaster and death, and you _cannot _tell me to stay here and sit still and do _nothing_ for Norloch when I know I can!"

There was a long, horrible silence. Camphis was looking out of the window, his eyes dark, and she could not unravel what was on his face. She wished fervently that she hadn't said _my love_. Cadvan hadn't been her love. Camphis was her love. He _was_…

"Yes," Camphis said finally, quietly.

"What?" whispered Maerad.

He turned to look at her, his eyes still dark – with grief, she thought, and it chilled her to the bone. Grief for her. Sadness for her. He cared about her and all she could do was think about – about – other things…

"Yes," he repeated. "You have suffered this before. And that is exactly the reason why you shouldn't do so now."

"No," she replied. "Camphis – "

He cut across her.

"Maerad, you've done your bit. You were the One in the Time of Sharma. You're not anymore. You've fought your battle, you've made your sacrifices, you've done everything for the Light that you had to. And you should not have to do any more, other than keep your home protected. And Innail is your home, though you may not feel that it is."

Maerad bit her lip.

"I know it is," she said quietly.

"Then _don't leave_." He dropped the letter on the desk and came around it to grasp Maerad's hands. They were warm and soft and caused a lump to rise in her throat. She forced herself to look into his eyes; they were the colour of brown sugar. "Please," he murmured. "I don't want you hurting yourself. I don't want you to have to go through all those struggles and worries again. I just want you to stay home – with me."

She looked down, unable to meet his eyes a second longer, and found herself glancing at the letter on the table.

"I can't betray him like this," she whispered. She did not have to define who 'him' was – Camphis knew.

"You won't be," he said. "He's the First Bard of Norloch, Maerad, he has to be able to handle this himself. And you are needed here, to protect your home and Hem when he comes."

Maerad gulped and said nothing; her vision was blurring with tears – tears of exhaustion and worry and indecision.

"Maerad…" Camphis murmured. "He couldn't even write that he fears for you without crossing it out."

Maerad looked up sharply at this.

"He still cares," she snapped.

"Really?" Camphis retorted. "It doesn't sound much like it to me."

Maerad was unexpectedly stung, and wrenched her hands out of his.

"What do you know?" she cried. "You don't read his letters, you don't read mine, you know _nothing _Camphis – "

"Maerad, if you were sure of his love for you then you would ignore my advice about Innail completely and you would go to Norloch. You wouldn't even think twice about it – but you _have_ and you _do_."

Maerad blinked up at him, her bottom lip trembling, her eyes glazed with tears. She wanted to hit Camphis for saying all this…but she couldn't. Because it was true, it was all true, what he said. He knew her…

"I love you," Camphis said steadily, looking into her watery blue eyes. "You know that I do. You can trust that I do. I can tell you that without fear. _He _cannot. He can't even say he worries about you! Maerad, you've lost him."

_You've lost him._

Maerad stared at Camphis soundlessly, standing perfectly still, though her hands were shaking horribly.

"It's my duty to help them," she whispered finally, but it was in a resigned tone, a weak tone, as if she knew she was losing the argument.

"It's your duty to help _us,_" he said. "This is Innail. You are First Bard of Innail. Your duty is here. And then there is Hem." He paused. "And me."

After a long hesitation, she nodded, weakly.

"I must stay here," she murmured. "To help defend Innail."

"Yes," Camphis said firmly. "You must. You must write to him and tell him you cannot. You must tell him you have duties here. Maerad…you must tell him you've moved on."

* * *

_Cadvan,_

_I cannot come to Norloch. If what you say about Innail is true, then it is my duty to stay and help protect it against whatever attacks it may face. You don't need me there._

_- - I'm sorry - -_

_- - I can't do this again - - _

_- - Camphis says that I should - -_

_- - I have moved on - -_

_- - I'm sorry - -_

_M._

_She can't have._ Cadvan stared at the letter, reading it through with a vicious intensity, as though the letters might rearrange themselves into what they wanted to say if he stared at them hard enough. _She can't have._

Staying in Innail. Refusing to come. Leaving him so utterly alone when this was the one time – _the one damned time_ – that he needed her, he truly needed her! She was the only one that knew as well as he what they were facing, she was the only one that could side with him in all those long discussions – all right, arguments - that he was bound to have with the First Bards from the other schools. And she had refused to come, she had let him down, how _dare _she?!

He screwed up the letter and flung it on the floor, shouting a variety of colourful curses, then slammed to his feet and stalked to the window, staring out at the grey day outside and grinding his teeth. _How dare she?_

_I just wanted to see her again. _The horribly lonely thought came unbidden to the forefront of his mind, but now it was there it refused to leave. _I just wanted to see her again. On top of everything, on top of all this diaster and strife and new danger, I just wanted to see her face. To see her smile._

_And now it seems I can't do that even when Annar is in the utmost danger!_

He let out a shout of rage and threw himself back into the chair again, examining her letter a little more calmly, staring at the words she had crossed out.

_Camphis says that I should…oh yes, I'm sure Camphis had a hand in this,_ he thought bitterly. _More than a hand. _He glowered out of the window, then corrected himself sternly. _He is her love. He is allowed to. _

_He has taken her away from me!_

_How could he, when she was never yours?_

He groaned and rubbed his eyes wearily. This whole thing was going to be twice as hard without her. The First Bards would have listened to her. She was the One.

_Oh Maerad, how could you abandon me like this?_

**Oh dear, isn't this miserable? Please review, or we'll make Cadvan jump off a cliff! :)**

* * *


	5. Thoughts

**The last chapter, written by Jennistar was MAGNIFICENT!! Giver her a round of applause, everyone!!**

**But then it seemed like this story vanished off the face of the Earth...**

**BUT NO! It didn't...**

**AND NOW, the moment you've all been waiting for...**

**...to you I present, with great happiness, the 4th chapter of Rebirth. **

_Love is not possession and it can't be possessed,  
If I should try to own you, I'd be like all the rest.  
I've learned from past conviction that love is not addiction,  
I've tried that many times and failed the test_

-- **_John Scatman, Only You_**

Maerad stood upon the highest tower of Innail, dressed in silver battle armor, her face grim as she looked towards the north, her ebony locks of hair blowing all about her in a fierce wind. Her mouth was sit in a firm line as she closed her eyes and daydreamed. In her daydream, she gazed over the many ranks who were so ominously marching towards her beloved home, the drums beating in cadence with the voices of the commanders and the orders of the leaders. And ahead of them all, drawn in a black chariot pulled by two sable horses sat Enkir, coldly gazing around with satisfaction. She could just see him: that smug little smile, the maddened eyes gazing around sharply in victory, even though he had not yet won.

And he would not. Maerad wouldn't let him. Although a small nagging doubt pursued her everywhere she went, haunting her footsteps like malicious laughter that had just ceased, and still echoed on and on into darkness, dark and foreboding. She shivered involuntarily; it was as if an icy hand had reached down and run its hand softly down her spine. To escape these thoughts, she turned away from the North before her and saw instead the lovely plains of Innail Fesse. The town sprawled across the meadows and downs with a sort of casual grace, and it, if anywhere, could be called Maerad's home.

_Only soon Innail might lie in ruins, _she thought, filled with remorse of all the things she had never done within the golden halls. She closed her eyes, picturing many memories: Her first time at Innail, when she had first met kindness: how wonderful it had been! And then returning after a long battle, eyes half-closed in near death, but ever so glad to be home. And then standing there, watching Cadvan ride away...

She flinched, and angrily dashed away the tear that followed. It wasn't fair how he had to enter every one of her memories, no matter how lovely it was. An image of his face would always worm itself into her heart, polluting anything good. Nay, he _was_ all that was good to her, she thought painfully, the thought nearly making her cry out in agony. Cadvan, she thought, _loved _her. But with that thought also came the others, so conflicting, the reason Maerad lay awake at night with tear-stained cheeks and watery eyes that sparkled in moonlight: But no, he had left, he didn't love her anymore. But she had been the one to send him away...but it was for the best. Besides, he loved Nerili now, and she and Camphis were lovers as well. They should feel complete...but she didn't. Her heartstrings gave a little twang every time she thought about Cadvan, and the memory of his smiling face - when the grim veil was torn aside and the fountain of joy exploded through his facade - always left a hollow place inside her breast.

For the first time that day, despite seeing an agony beyond any other in the faces of those who believed their fair city was no more, and the deaths caused by some of Enkir's outriders, and many more unimaginably cruel and ugly things, Maerad of Pellinor wept openly. All seemed so hopeless. She had never felt this way, but with her decision the day before, she knew it was the worst thing she could have done. Instantly she felt her wrong anew, like a knife slid in between her ribs; a terribleness beyond the great power of any storm. And not just for Innail. Indeed, Innail had been spared in the great battle, but could it last now? And yet, twas the least of her worries. There was also Camphis, who seemed different to her. She remembered the first day he had kissed her, how she had welcomed the embrace which sent warmth tingling throughout her entire body. He still loved her, certainly, she saw it in his eyes. But was _she _the one feeling differently about him - about them? She thought of that kiss for a moment; it had been a tender thing she had welcomed. But as she thought, she and Cadvan came to mind: the passion, the fire coursing through both of them, but then at the same time that gentleness that she loved and that was only him and her - that was only them. _It is different_, she reflected, staring sightlessly at the pale grey stone at her feet, _because I do not think Camphis and I will ever be as Cadvan and I are. _

_Or rather, were, _she thought glumly. That was why she had Camphis, because she no longer had Cadvan. And with that truth, another realisation dawned upon her: She was simply using him. The thought made her blench in horror at herself. How could she? It was too cruel. And yet it was true. Camphis was simply a substitute. He was very much a good friend, one of her best, but he was not as Cadvan would ever be to her. Maerad felt sickened with herself, and slid down the wall, clutching her stomach. Also in her lay a frightening doubt, and a horrifying agony. If this were so, which she knew it to be, then she had sent away the man she loved. And that same man was no longer hers, and was soon becoming one with another. Maerad put a hand up to her mouth to cover a sob. What was she even doing here, anyway? Cadvan had called her, and he needed her. And he had at least written (though crossed out, whispered an annoying voice in the back of her mind) that he feared for her. _So maybe_, she thought, heart beating faster, _he does really want me there...just for me..._

_But I am First Bard. I have to stay and defend. Camphis was right. _But there were others who could defend Innail. There were plenty able-bodied, and if they had saved Innail once, they could do it again. Even if it had been a near thing, Innail was more populous now, and more were willing to serve. Even though Enkir said his army was large, Innail might be larger, and they had many powerful mages...

Her mind was racing as she thought of everything, her breath quickening until she had to take a moment to gain control of her scattered wits. She could go...after all, Cadvan had said he was gathering the First Bards of every school...so maybe she was supposed to go anyway...

Before she could change her mind, Maerad looked to the north, where she could imagine that far away the armies of Enkir strode ominously closer, and then took off towards the stairs, cloak billowing behind her. She flew down the stairs, feet barely touching the steps, hand grazing the railing and giving her tiny splinters, but she took no notice.

"I'm coming, Cadvan," she muttered under her breath, and a smile lit her lips with a light that no one had seen in many, many months.

* * *

Cadvan sat, arms crossed, and gazed at the First Circle of Norloch. They were talking about many things, not the least of which included Maerad of Pellinor.

"She isn't coming," Cadvan said shortly, when questioned. The Circle raised their eyebrows at his sharp answer, but let him continue. "In the letter from Enkir, he said he was to attack Innail. They will most likely have laid seige by the end of a fortnight. Thus, I erected the meeting as soon as I could, to give her enough time to come and discuss plans of action with the rest of Annar, and then return and defend her school. But she refused, saying she had to stay at Innail. I suppose she is right." _Although it wasn't her decision. That damned Camphis, _he added privately to himself, his eyebrows knitting together in a furious line for a moment, before he covered it smoothly by saying, "Instead, we will continue the meeting, and then emmisaries will be sent out to Innail to tell her of the information gathered there."

"But Cadvan," said Nerili, her eyes filled with barely concealed jealousy over the mention of Maerad, "isn't it better for her to stay? After all, we don't want you and your...um, if I may, _romantic history _to get in the way," she said spitefully, although she smiled sweetly. She obviously hadn't missed the angry thoughts that had passed briefly over his face.

Cadvan breathed out harshly for a moment, and then put his hands on the table. They were clenching the edge as if the table were the last thing on earth, and the knuckles turned white with the pressure. Nerili watched him smugly, while musing silently to herself that if he held onto the table any harder, it would break beneath his hands. But, despite the slight happiness that she had been the cause of this, she felt a deep sadness piercing her heart. She had wanted to ask about Maerad, to see if she still lingered on his mind - and in his heart. So she asked. And obviously his thoughts, if not fleeting towards her every now and then, were focused on the young woman who had stolen his heart. The thought of this made Nerili have to look away for a few moments, while quickly blinking tears away. Cadvan loved Nerili, but she knew it would never be like the love that he and Maerad had shared for so brief a time; the love that still tormented their minds like unwanted shadows. She had never asked why Maerad and him had not stayed together: when he returned to Norloch, he had not eaten nor slept for many days, and when he finally came from his chamber, he became very solitary. It had taken all of Nerili's wiles to get him to speak to her, and they became the fast friends they were many ages ago. The same thing happened, of course, as last time. Nerili had fallen head over heels in love with him, and like last time, Cadvan had allowed and even nourished their love, but she saw that he was using her. Last time it was Ceredin. This time it was Maerad.

Nerili passed a hand over her brow. She did love Cadvan. Very much. That's why it had been, unlike custom, her who had proposed marriage. He had accepted, but now she realised that perhaps he only sought her to get away from the pain Maerad had left behind. Maybe it was the same thing that Maerad was going through.

_They were made for each other, _she thought sadly, looking at Cadvan. _So who will I find? _Nerili herself, even though she hated to admit it, never would find comfort in Cadvan. Nerili was too strong, too passionate, and yet too dependent. Cadvan needed someone strong, but stubborn and independent and gentle. Someone like Maerad. But could she tell him, or should she let Fate continue in its own course?

Cadvan's voice interrupted her musings. "If _I _may, Nerili of Busk: Our '_romantic history,' _as you say, would _never _get in the way." The First Bard was trembling in rage, although he tried to master it. "I am completely devoted to the fate of Annar, as is Maerad. And..." Cadvan continued speaking, but his voice trailed off, and he looked away. "Moving on to other topics," he said, abruptly and very obviously changing the subject of matter, "I have news that the Jussacks might be with Enkir. What might you think of this, friends?"

During the slightly tensious conversation that followed, Cadvan barely listened. His mind was in a confused disorder. Every now and then, he would shift his gaze to Nerili, trying to hide the anger he felt towards her from showing on his face. She - he couldn't believe her nerve - had questioned him and Maerad in front of the First Circle, challenging and bringing painfully to mind what he worked to keep hidden: that if Maerad were here, he could never concentrate on the tasks at hand. Which perhaps made it better that she did not come. But he didn't believe it himself. He never could. It was his real time of need, and he truly did need her. _Where are you, Maerad? _he asked painfully. _Are you still hiding in the shadows of my mind, quick behind me, whispering in my ear false things I only wish for? Or are you hidden in my heart, tucked away to remember later, in happier times, with no thought of remorse or regret. Or perhaps a bit of both?_

_I need her, _he said to himself again, and his grief washed over him anew, like a torrential wave that crashed around him and drowned him within the depths, dragging him into the cold pit of darkness, whose other name was agony. But it wasn't just that he needed her here...he _wanted _her here. He wanted to see her smile, wanted to hear her laugh.

_But maybe, _he thought as he realised the council was ending and Nerili was staring sadly in his direction, and now turning to leave, _some things are better left for wanting._

* * *

Camphis tapped his fingers idly against the wall, where he stood keeping guard by the door. For all his years here, defending his great city, he was still very, very frightened about fighting. More so that it bordered terror. If it had not been for Indik's training, (and his promise that if they did not fight with all valor he would promise a fate much worse) then Camphis would have, much to his own annoyance and shame, be fleeing Innail on the fastest horse there was. But even though he was a coward, he was glad to be here, defending the city he loved...

And Maerad. But lately, something in his Knowing had been troubling the healer. It wasn't that the conversation of a few nights ago. No, it was more than that. It was an accumulation of things that built up like a dam, and would some day burst. And that day, although he did not know it yet, was today.

He felt his grief over Maerad. He knew he was losing her, but strangely, it didn't bother him as much as it should have. Maybe it was because he didn't feel like they were everything anymore. He didn't love her the way he used to, and she certainly had no affection for him. Well, they were friends. Very, very good friends. But no more could they be lovers, he contemplated. And although it was as if a seed of sadness had been soughed in his heart, there was also a small flickering of hope. Even though she did not love him, there were others who did. That bard, Kelia, for instance. She had always looked at him as if he were special, and lately he felt himself growing fond of her. Terribly fond. And Maerad was just...there. He did love her too, and it was a conflict he had had within himself at the time of their argument. Now he felt foolish for telling her to stay; maybe if she had gone, things would have blossomed between Cadvan and Maerad, and then him and Kelia. But the thing was, he still wasn't sure if he wanted it.

He sighed. His thoughts were rather run on, he mused to himself. But everything was nowadays. He truly didn't even know himself.

Neither did Maerad, who was coming down the steps, although there was a deep feeling of certainty within her at the moment. She could feel it, making her heart pound surer and stronger than ever before. She would go. She would leave Innail today, and not stop in her riding. She would go with all haste, using the most open roads, no matter how many followers of Enkir guarded the roadsides. She would ride Imi, whom she had reclaimed from the Pilanel, and the mare would feel her urgency. The tough horse would carry her swiftly to Norloch, and maybe they would arrive in 5 days time, arriving exactly for the meeting. Then she could gallop back, and there would still be time to go and defend Innail, if Enkir's troops arrived when she predicted. Now the only trouble was to convince Camphis...

Maerad took a deep breath and pushed open the door at the bottom of the staircase, her adamant gaze determined. She saw Camphis swing around in surprise, and then his eyes fell at the sight of her. She herself was slightly surprised at that look; it was not at all what she expected. But maybe that was relief she felt as well...

"Camphis," she began, and then faltered. She took a deep breath, and started again. "Camphis, I'm going to Norloch. I...I understand if you want to stop me," she said, voice gathering strength, "but that is no concern of mine. I have to go to Norloch. I don't have duty just to Innail, but also to Annar."

"And also to your love," said Camphs softly, and he stepped forward and took her hands. Maerad thought for a moment that he would protest, saying _he _needed her. But the look in his eyes was release, as if he were letting go an injured bird that he had nursed back to health, and was reluctant to let it go, but happy for the creature all the same. "Maerad, I understand. I love you infinetely, but...but I think we both know it's not the same as it used to be. Or perhaps it's not the same as we ever dreamed it was." He looked down at their hands, intertwined, her smaller hands fitting easily within his own. He carressed them gently with his thumbs as he spoke. "I know you always loved him, Maerad. You never felt the way about me that I might have at one time for you."

Maerad was speechless, and was finally able to speak only after she had blinked a few times. "So...so...are you..." she mumbled slightly, a little confused.

He laughed softly. "Go to him, Maerad. He needs you. You need him. And we don't need each other. I'm letting you go." He smiled uncertainly, and Maerad stared at him for a few moments, and then wrapped her arms around him in a friendly hug.

"I do love you Camphis, but as a friend. And you are on of the greatest I could ever have," she whispered, and he chuckled.

"You are a good friend too, Maerad. Now, you must go with all haste. Innail can stand, but we'll miss you all the same."

"Thank you," she breathed, and then bowed once. "May the Light shine on your path!" she called, as she ran out the door, to the stables, and over the meads of Carmellachen.

Camphis watched until she was out of sight, and then he turned away. "And on yours," he whispered, feeling both sadness and warmth as he watched her go. But it was for the best. The Light, he must remember, always shined the brighter in the darkest places. But maybe it wasn't so dark...the thought of Kelia on his mind and a tune on his lips, he left the guard post at his appointed time and made his way into the school, a smile quirking his lips.

* * *

It was the day of the council, and Cadvan was staring numbly out the window. All the First Bards had come from every school - save Maerad. It was so ironic, he thought, that she, her of all the damned people in this world, would be the one who didn't come. He twisted his fingers together to keep himself from hitting something. But he was over his rage; now he felt only loss.

He sat down in a chair by the fire, and flicked through some old documents. Letters. From her. He grimaced, but his eyes softened as he read them silently to himself, the grim lines made by troublesome years as First Bard nearly disappearing into the smooth skin of his weathered face. He sighed deeply, lifting another onto his lap, when suddenly a knock sounded at his door. He jumped in his surprise, and the papers scattered in all directions. Hurriedly he ran about and gathered them up, and called out a breathless, "Come in," his face red with embarrassment.

It was Saliman, who had arrived earlier that day, and he came in, slipping on a paper in his entrance. He raised his eyebrows at his friend, and Cadvan mumbled something under his breath. Saliman just shook his head wearily, and entered into the room and began helping pick up the scattered papers. He stopped and froze upon seeing the name signed upon the letters, and breathed out tiredly, passing a hand over his brow. Then he stood and put his hand on Cadvan's shoulder, his kind eyes staring softly. "Cadvan, when will this end?" he asked gently. "Maerad is gone. You haven't seen her in ages. It is over, do you not think?"

Saliman was Cadvan's one true friend. He thought he could tell him anything, but this was something he did not even know himself. "Saliman, I...I don't know," he said, and he gazed at Saliman, his blue eyes suddenly seeming very much like a small child's. "I just wish...well, I don't know what I wish," he ended in a whisper. "I just wanted her to come again. Wanted her here. To see her smile." He looked away, expression pained, as if something had broken inside him, and was something that could never be mended.

Saliman hated to see this pain in Cadvan, but could find no way to comfort him. "But isn't she coming today?" he asked.

"No. She had duties to Innail..." Cadvan looked away, and finally acknowledged what he had feared. "...and I don't think she wants to."

"Oh, Cadvan," he said rolling his eyes. "She was one of your best friends, besides me," he said, and Cadvan smiled softly, but let him continue. "Your best friend, your lover. She obviously cared for you, and would still want to see you again. It was her duties to Innail. I had heard that is was being attacked..."

"And Camphis," Cadvan muttered under his breath.

Saliman laughed loudly. "Come, Cadvan. There is no time for jealousy. And I think she still might love you. Remember when you left her?" he said softly. "You didn't want to, and neither did she want you to go. But the memories were too painful. But maybe time has assuaged them. There is still hope."

"There is always hope," he agreed. "Now come, we have a meeting to hold."

The meeting was long, and almost nothing was decided. The younger First Bards, such as one of the places like Til Amon, Eleve, and Lirigon were very rash in their decisions, wanting always to immediately fight and take on the armies of Enkir themselves, or be cowards and run away. However the elder, supposedly wiser ones were not much better, only thinking in roudabouts and strategy, whilst what Cadvan thought they needed was a combination of both. But no one would listen to the First Bard, of course.

_I'm worth nothing in this conversation, _he mused, frustrated and annoyed. _They'd listen to Maerad, _he caught himself thinking, and hurriedly pushed those thoughts away. He sighed, and attempted to listen to the conversation around him.

"We must first ask peace with Enkir," said a short bard to his left, who Cadvan guessed was the First Bard of Ettinor.

Cadvan sighed, and was about to counter that when Eleve's First Bard said, "Never! He won't work with us!"

Nerili of Busk agreed. "He'd never dream of making peace. Just look what he did to Pellinor all those years ago!"

Cadvan shook his head. "I'm afraid peace isn't the answer," he jumped in, casting a stern eye around the table.

"Then what do you propose?" asked Saliman calmly, resting his chin in his hand, a quizzical expression upon his face.

Cadvan closed his eyes for a moment. _If only Maerad were here, she'd know what to do. _His eyes flew open, refusing to think this. "I suggest we wait it out to see what he does to Innail. If he truly plans to attack it, then Innail will fight with all valor. And if it falls to Enkir," he said softly, eyes squeezing shut again, "then we will at least have seen the size of his army, and then be able to know what to do next. But I think he will not, and will instead be a coward making flase and empty threats." He stopped, and leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, blue eyes now open and shining with a determined light. "I propose that after the attack on Innail we hold another meeting. So perhaps you would like to stay here and send emissarries back to your schools to tell them all that happened here."

"But why are they attacking Innail?" asked another First Bard quietly, her eyes curious.

"Yes, I wondered that as well," said Havao of Til Amon. "And where is Maerad this time? Did she stay to defend her city, or was she otherwise detained?"

"She stayed to defend Innail," Cadvan ground out, trying to look as serene as possible.

"I understand, but why would you..." suddenly the door opened, cutting off the Bard's question, and all eyes swiveled to see who was walking in.

Cadvan stood up, hands on the table, his aqua eyes wide in disbelief. His chair fell over with the haste of his rising, but no one made any comment. His whole body was trembling as the figure approached the table, and he couldn't believe what he saw.

"I beg forgiveness of the First Bards of Annar," she said, deep blue eyes never straying from Cadvan's face, although she spoke to them all. "I was not quick enough in my travelling as I had hoped, and just arrived."

_She came...it's Maerad...she came..._

Cadvan had to take a moment before he could speak. "Welcome, Maerad of Pellinor. I mean, Maerad of Innail. You are...your absence is forgiven. Please join us for the rest of our...discussion... " he trailed off, and for a moment, all was silent in the hall, save the harsh breaths of both Maerad and Cadvan.

Maerad smiled faintly. "I thank you," she said, and took a seat, tearing her gaze away from him at last.

"Conversation can resume," he said softly, and the meeting continued.

But neither of them remembered what was said.

**hahaha!! bet ya cant wait to see what happens next hehehe**

**hope you liked it!! **

**If you did, REVIEW! If you didn't, REVIEW! I think the more reviews we get, the more we want to post the next chapter...hehehe. oh, for bribes...**


	6. Feelings Returned

**NB: HI GUYS!! It's Jennistar here, with the next installment of Rebirth! (Okay, when did I start sounding like some chat-show host??) The last chapter was by Mistress Maerad and it ROCKED! I only hope I can do as well...:)**

**Some of you may have been confused about whether it was a year or 10 years since the final battle. It was 10 years since the battle where Sharma died, BUT it has been a year since Maerad and Cadvan saw each other face to face. They made the decision to separate just after the final battle, i.e. 10 years ago, but still saw each other after that time every few months or so. A year has passed since the last time they met, and it has been the longest time apart that they have had since their decision (or Maerad's anyway lol). I hope that clears things up for you! And I hope I didn't just confuse you more!!**

**So, without further ado, allow me to present - CHAPTER 5!**

* * *

_Love…_

_Love i__s the only truth  
Pure as the well of youth  
Until it breaks your heart!  
_

_You took me higher than the mountains I have climbed_

_  
__You…_

_You w__aited all your life for me  
You…left me all alone behind  
But we'll meet again  
We will meet again …_

**- Kamelot: Nothing Ever Dies**

* * *

Cadvan's living quarters in Norloch were pleasantly decorated, if a little extravagant for Cadvan's personal tastes (but apparently – judging by her reaction when she had first entered the room - not Nerili's). The floors were covered with a thick, red carpet, the latticed windows looked out over delicately sculpted gardens and the room itself was filled with soft chairs and couches, bookcases stuffed with scrolls in every available corner and cabinets filled with oddities from Cadvan's many travels. The walls were panelled with honey-coloured oak and, as tradition stated, each new First Bard of Norloch was required to engrave some sort of image into one of these panels at the start of their reign - for good luck it was said. Cadvan had eventually, after much deliberation, engraved Maerad's lyre and Hem's tuning fork into his panel to remind both visitors and himself of the sacrifices made in the re-making of the Song and the levelling of the Balance – not just the sacrifices of Maerad and Cadvan and Hem but of all people everywhere in Edil-Amarandh, fighting and crying for their ruined homes and lives. Before his panel was Enkir's panel, grotesquely decorated with screaming faces and groping hands; when the fire was lit, the flames made it look like the hands were reaching for Maerad's lyre in the second panel and had eventually unnerved Cadvan so much that he didn't light fires in the room anymore.

Someone had lit a fire tonight though; the hands scrambling to get a hold on that carefully engraved, fragile lyre was the first thing Cadvan's eyes fell on when he entered the room. _Not helpful,_ he thought grimly, and instead turned his attention to the drinks cabinet near to the fireplace. He needed a quick drink. Or two.

He filled a glassful of amber laradhel and sat heavily in a chair, staring blankly into the forbidden fire and swiftly thinking over the events of the day.

A fierce argument about Innail's protection had followed after Maerad had arrived; she refused point blank to allow Cadvan to use Innail as a chance to see the strength of Enkir's army, and demanded that he send scouts to spy on Enkir's army and find out more information that way – _that way_, she snapped, not meeting his eyes, _Innail will have MORE of a chance of overcoming the army, not less. I know it's dangerous for the scouts, but we need the information desperately. And I will hear no more of sacrificing Innail for the rest of Edil-Amarandh._

The committee had listened to her. As he knew they would. They listened to Maerad more than Cadvan, they always did. _By the Light,_ he thought grimly. _Maybe Maerad should be First Bard of Norloch instead of me…What good do I do, really? I don't have the courage she has; I always try to choose the best option out of the choices given to me. But Maerad…she _rejects _the choices. She thinks outside the choices. She says: "No, there is another way. A way where we can _all_ win." She doesn't give up. And she has faith in the strength of others. I just try to take everything on myself._

_And now she's here, she's finally here – by the Light _she's here_ - and I just messed everything up by trying to sacrifice her home to the new Dark. Well done, Cadvan._

He took another gulp of laradhel, feeling it burn down to his chest, clearing his throat and his thoughts.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting him before he could get comfortably drunk. He groaned inwardly – now, at about midnight, and after such a hectic day, he was not in the mood to talk with anybody – but said aloud,

"Come in."

The door opened and the person he both most wanted to see and least wanted to see walked through the door slowly.

"Hello," said Maerad awkwardly.

Cadvan's body flung himself out of the chair before his mind caught up with it. His body took two steps forward, automatically reaching out to grab hold of her, to make sure she really _was_ there, with him, after so long, to embrace her, to hear her heart beating against him…and then his mind caught hold of him and made him scramble to an ungainly, embarrassing halt.

There was an uneasy silence. Neither one could look at the other.

Finally, when the silence had stretched on to breaking point, Maerad said quietly,

"I'm sorry about my last letter. I changed my…I mean, I discovered that Innail would be sufficiently able to defend itself until I got back. Camphis is more than capable of leading Innail to victory. And you sounded like you needed…it sounded as though the meeting was important."

"I did – I do," Cadvan blurted, then bit his tongue and corrected himself hastily. "I mean, it was. As you saw."

"Yes. As I saw." Maerad's eyes, not focused on him, nevertheless hardened. "If I hadn't been there, Innail would have been left alone to face Enkir's army with no knowledge of its size or its might. Yes, Cadvan, I can see how _important _that meeting was."

Cadvan – taken slightly aback by the venom in her voice – turned his head and looked properly at her…and then, once he had looked upon her, found himself completely unable to look away.

She was so beautiful. No, scratch that. _Beautiful_ didn't describe it. _Beautiful_ was a completely inadequate word for her. _Beautiful _came nowhere near. Nowhere. Near.

To describe her…

She had black hair. She had blue eyes. She was thin. Those words meant absolutely nothing; they hardly scratched the surface of what she was. Black hair did not describe the different shades it went in different lights – shadow black in pitch darkness, blue-silver in the moonlight, a smoky gold in this firelight. Blue eyes did not describe their depth – the iciness, the heat, the steel and the softness, all mixed up in one, a cyclone between boiling cloud and unfathomably deep sea. Thinness did not describe her grace, the twist of her body when she sat down, when she sat up, the sway of her hips when she walked. There was nothing that could describe her, no words came close enough.

Maerad was…Maerad was…

Maerad was everything. Maerad not only lit up the room when she entered, she _owned _the room. She owned the _world_ when he saw her. Everything, all things, it all vanished into insignificance when he laid his eyes on her. How could someone, how could one person do that to him? Walk into his world – walk into all he owned, his responsibilities, the people he knew, his _life_, grab it, hold it, then make it vanish, leaving only herself. How did she _do _that? How _dare _she do that? How _dare_ she be so important to him? How _dare_ she be the most important thing to him, even now, even after everything, after all his efforts to move on, to create a new life? How could she come and shake up everything like this?

_She came because I asked her. Because I can't do this, I can't pretend like this anymore, it's so hard. It's so _hard.

_It's too hard to let go._

Maerad was his reality. The rest of the world was some sort of strange illusion that he created to keep himself alive when she wasn't there. He was only really, truly living when Maerad was there. The rest of the time…he was just waiting. How could he let go of reality? It was impossible…no mortal could achieve it.

"It's good to see you," he said aloud. The words meant nothing; they could possibly say what he meant to say, just as the word 'beautiful' meant nothing when compared with Maerad's…everything.

Some of what he felt must have been transmitted in his voice, though, because the steel that had been so apparent in Maerad's eyes softened like mercury before a fire and she turned her head to look at him.

Their eyes met; he realised suddenly that her face seemed longer and narrower than the last time he had seen her, her eyes were deeper and held more, her mouth grave, her whole expression more mobile than before. Of course, he remembered afresh. They hadn't met for a whole year. A whole year without looking on her face. Cadvan couldn't imagine how he had got by.

He had been dead for a year.

"You grew up," he said numbly.

A tiny smile, so small and quick he would have missed it if he had blinked, quirked the corners of her mouth.

"And you grew old," she answered, a slight teasing tone in her voice.

A bubble of guilt formed in Cadvan's stomach; he recalled the meeting earlier that day uncomfortably.

"Old and stupid," he agreed. "Maerad – about Innail – I – "

And then he was quite unable to say anymore because she had stepped forward and the tips of her fingers – so cool, so soft, so gentle – were tentatively touching the old whip marks on his face. A year without her touch, he realised vaguely. And now here it was, as quick and sharp and painful as an electric shock. Sparking him back into real life with one touch.

"It's – " Maerad started, then also seemed to have trouble with the rest of her sentence. Her eyes were distant, as if she were somewhere else; in the past, maybe, with him…he hoped so because he felt as though he were heading that way himself. Back to that time, that wonderful first kiss on that dreadful last day of the Time of Sharma. Who knew then, when their lips met, that they would end up like…this? Together and yet apart…

"I should be the one – " she started, then frowned distractedly and cut off her sentence once more, starting it anew. "You know…I think the whip marks have faded a little."

"And I thought my skin was too old to heal," he jested quietly, smiling slightly. Maerad bit her lip; she couldn't seem to take her eyes off his cheek. Her fingers moved down his cheek to his jaw, lightly caressing his chin and making his insides shiver.

"Still as stubborn as ever," she commented faintly, seemingly only half aware of what she was doing. "A little more clean shaven though."

The fingers moved to his lips, then seemed to change their mind and instead moved to his other cheek.

"Weather beaten as before," she announced. "But softer…as if you've been spending more time indoors."

The fingers moved to his nose.

"Same as before," was the decision. "Craggy."

Next in line was the forehead.

"Older. You have more frown lines. The laughter lines have faded a bit."

And then the eyes, the tips of the fingers brushing his eyelashes ever so slightly.

"Older as well. Deeper…sadder. So much sadder. You'd think they'd be brighter, now Sharma is gone. But they are…so sad."

The fingers moved to his hair before he could comment. He felt that he should stop her, stay her hands – that he should have done as soon as she had touched him. But nothing in the world could make him move now…forward or away…No. He was stuck in this blissful limbo, this soft caressing, this desperate familiarising.

"Thinner." Maerad decided about his hair. "But just as soft as ever. I don't think I've ever felt anything so soft."

Her fingers were slowly running through his hair now, causing shocks up and down his spine. He wished she would stop, he could feel himself trembling. But then, if she stopped, what would he do? By the Light, he had never felt as confused as this for ages…for a year in fact.

His own hands moved up to touch her face before he could stop them, and he heard her let out a barely audible gasp when he finally pressed his fingers to her cheeks. Her own hands ceased running through his hair; her eyes were suddenly present. But she didn't move away.

He began his own interrogation of her face, pumped with equal amounts of desire for her and desperation to get to know her all over again.

"Face is firmer. Older. And you're even paler, if that's possible."

His fingers moved to her jaw, just as hers had.

"Stubborn. More stubborn than before. Probably due to all those arguments with self-obsessed farmers."

Maerad attempted a laugh but it came out as more of a sigh. He could feel her body trembling, so close to him.

His hands moved to mould past her nose.

"Straighter."

The forehead next.

"You're getting frown lines, too. Already. Not a good sign. So much strain…" He broke off his exploration unconsciously, and moved his hands to her temples, his fingers giving them a gentle massage. "You worry overmuch," he chastised in a murmur.

Maerad's eyes closed briefly; her hands were suddenly clenched in his hair, her body stiffened.

"Cadvan," she murmured. "Please don't – "

_Oh no you don't, _he thought. _You don't come over here and obliterate my world and touch my heart, then tell me 'no'._

Her head tipped back a little; he moved his fingers to the corners of her mouth, to the one place she had purposefully avoided on his own face.

"Graver than before," he decided. His voice was suddenly nothing but a croak. "Not even an ironic tweak of a smile. Just…seriousness. Oh Maerad, if growing up means you lose your lightness, I don't want you to grow up at all."

"I haven't." Her voice was husky as well, tight with suppressed emotion. "I just haven't had any reason to…" Her voice gave out, she had to start again. "I haven't had any reason to smile since we parted last…"

Her mouth was so close now, parted a little, expectantly. He could feel the sweetness of her breath on his own lips.

"How I missed your face," he murmured, then gave up it all – gave up everything - and moved down to kiss her, as he had craved since their separation.

There was a knock on the door, suddenly loud and insistent, jolting them both out of their concentrated caressing.

"Who is it?" Cadvan asked aloud, suddenly realising he sounded dreadfully guilty.

"Who do you _think_ it is, Cadvan?" Nerili's peevish voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Let me in, I need a drink! It's _freezing _out here!"

Cadvan's stomach lurched – in his furious focus on Maerad, he had forgotten all about Nerili, about their…

Oh, by the Light, this was going to be hard to explain.

He glanced at Maerad, but she was looking away, her eyes hard again, though her bottom lip quivered slightly…with sadness? With desire? He had no idea…

He moved to the door before he could get sucked in by Maerad again, and opened it. Nerili stamped in, a flurry of beauty and irritableness.

"Took you long en – " Then her eyes fell on Maerad, and her complaint stopped midway. "Maerad!" she exclaimed, sounding, if it was possible, thought Cadvan with a sigh, surprised and joyous and annoyed and suspicious all at once. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Yes, I just came to…" Maerad couldn't seem to think of an excuse, and merely shrugged, suddenly bursting into a smile (totally fake, Cadvan knew) and taking Nerili's hands.

"My greetings Nerili! I haven't seen you for so long…!"

"Me neither…! Delightful - !"

"Oh yes, absolutely!"

"You have to tell me _everything _you've been getting up to…"

Cadvan stared in faint wonder at the womanly display of outward devoted friendliness effortlessly covering an inner animosity; only he apparently noticed the slight tightness around Maerad's eyes, or the faint annoyance in Nerili's.

"How are you? How is Busk? I miss it…"

"Busk is alive and bustling, and its people are as fiery and difficult as ever. And I am – well, of course you already know!"

And she brandished her left hand, complete with ring, at Maerad.

Cadvan felt a sudden pain in his chest, as if he had been stabbed. Maerad seemed to move in slow motion, taking in Nerili's action, and her hand, and the meaning of it, all in one go. Then she glanced quickly at Cadvan, her face briefly showing such pain that he imagined he could feel it lance inside himself. For a split second – although it felt like a thousand million eternities to Cadvan – she simply stared at him, her hurt, her _devastation_ echoing out of every crevice of her being…and then it smoothed almost easily and she looked back at Nerili with a new, polite incomprehension.

"I…I didn't…"

Nerili looked mildly surprised.

"You didn't know? I thought Cadvan would have told you!"

"No…I…" Maerad seemed unable to let out a complete sentence; her hands clenched slightly into fists at her sides. She didn't look at Cadvan again, though he willed her to with all his heart, stared so hard at her that he thought his eyes would burn through her brain. _What was she thinking?_ By the Light, why couldn't he read what she was thinking? He had been so good at it in the past…she had joked that he sometimes knew what she thought before she did. And now…nothing.

Had they really moved so far apart that he no longer knew who she was? How – _when_ – had that happened…?

An emptiness where her thoughts had once been, a dark space where their souls had once been joined.

Nerili blinked, gave Cadvan a searching look, obviously taking in the tension, then said lightly,

"Well, we haven't been engaged very long. I'm sure he was getting round to it. And the wedding isn't for a while…especially with all this trouble with Enkir; let's have some laradhel, yes? I think we should all catch up!"

"No, I – !" Maerad cleared her throat, biting back the sharp pain that had stood out so starkly in her voice. "Actually, I'm a bit…tired. From all that riding."

"Oh, of course!" Nerili's false politeness was starting to annoy Cadvan, and he could see Maerad was getting irritated too – her jaw was clenched tightly. "Well, we can always talk tomorrow!"

"Yes. Tomorrow. Good night." Maerad marched to the door without looking at Cadvan and with barely a bow to Nerili.

"Good night, Maerad!"

Maerad flung open the door; Cadvan's limbs commanded him to move and he ran to catch the door before it closed on her retreating back.

"Maerad!" he hissed once he was in the corridor, safe from Nerili's presence. She was already moving down the corridor, a shadow slipping between light and dark, and didn't even falter at the sound of his voice.

"Maerad, please!"

No response. She walked away as if she couldn't hear the desperation in his every syllable.

"Maerad…"

He gave up and watched her rage down the corridor alone, a sudden sadness permeating off her, the darkness of the night swallowing her up as if it alone owned her.

By the Light, he thought. He missed her face already.

* * *

She lay on her bed and stared up at the moonwhite ceiling, flickering with the gentle twinkling of the stars that glimmered through the window. All was silent, all was resting…all apart from her. How could she possibly rest when…?

He had truly moved on. He had truly moved past her. She had thought, selfishly and quite unconsciously, that it had been as difficult for him as it had for her. She had thought he would be as desperate to be with her, to touch her, to feel that connection of souls, as she was. But he had…

He had a _fiancée._

And more than that; he had Norloch. She had Innail. They had their own homes and they were different…they were _apart_.

In those early days, she had never even imagined the possibility of separate homes. In her mind they had always been together, wherever they were, _whatever_ they were, they had been together. Solid friends or passionate lovers, it didn't matter…ever since she had first laid eyes on Cadvan, she had always thought they would be together until eternity.

Now she was here, and he was only a few rooms away, a few metres away, a few steps away…

And she had never felt more lonely in her entire life.

_I have forgotten how to live without Cadvan. And now – because of me, because of my choice, because of my own madness, my inability to let go of the past – I shall have to do exactly that._

_I cannot go back now. I cannot do that to him. I cannot turn around and say: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forget it all and let's go back to what we were." It's not fair. And he probably wouldn't agree anyway…he has a new life. He has a new life _without me in it. _I can't deny him his new life – I…love him too much…to do that._

_I have only one option now._

_I shall have to live without him too._

_And Maerad, remember – it will be forever._

* * *

She tried to avoid him for the rest of the next day, but Cadvan had always had an instinctive knowledge of where to find her when he wanted to. He cornered her eventually in a library; she had been leafing through an old volume of military tactics, written at the Time of Sharma, and had been so absorbed that she didn't notice his presence until it was too late and he was seated in the chair opposite her.

"Maerad," he said.

Maerad glanced up sharply, then shot to her feet, but Cadvan was quicker, bounding up and seizing her wrists in a gentle but firm hold.

"Oh no you don't, I've been trying to find you all day."

"I have nothing to say to you," Maerad growled at him through gritted teeth.

"That's fine," he retorted. "You still don't get away. Because I have _plenty_ to say to _you_."

"Cadvan – " His name had come out as more of a sob, and she saw the brief hesitation in his eyes. His fingers slipped quietly off her wrists.

"You do have something to say," he said. It was a simple statement, said in a flat voice.

Maerad nodded, her throat tight and her eyes on the table.

"You didn't tell me about Nerili."

"I…" And suddenly he had no excuse to give her, although a thousand had been whirring around his head the night before. "I couldn't," he murmured finally.

"It's…" Maerad's throat constricted a little more and she had to clear her throat to open it before starting again. "It doesn't matter. It's fine. I – it's none of my business anyway." Suddenly spiked with self-pity and the desire to fully state what she was trying to explain, she gestured helplessly around the library, missing the sudden blaze of emotion in Cadvan's eyes. "This," she said quietly. "All of it. All of it, Cadvan; Norloch, being First Bard, your committee, your – _engagement_…" She almost choked on the word. "None of it has anything to do with me. We decided that long ago; to be apart, to be separate. To start over with our own lives. In – in fact…_I _decided it, _I _requested it. And you agreed because…well…you love - agreed. Why should I protest about anything you do, what right have I to demand that you tell me anything of this new life? I have no right…I have nothing. You owe me nothing, Cadvan. You can treat me as you like – you can tell me all or nothing, I won't protest, I won't argue. I am nothing in this new life of yours."

There was a long, difficult silence. Maerad could tell Cadvan was staring at her but she did not look at him.

"Is that really what you think?" Cadvan said finally, and his voice was not angry, like she had imagined it would be, but merely sad, almost pitying, as if he pitied her. "You think you are nothing to me?"

"Maybe I was once," Maerad whispered. "But not now."

Another silence; this time so unbearable that Maerad had to look at Cadvan, to gauge his feelings in his eyes. As soon as she had, she wished she hadn't; there was such anguish and such anger on his face that it caused a turmoil of receptive feelings within her…the urge to comfort, the urge to plead, and the inability to do both.

"Cadvan – " she started.

"Then you really don't know me anymore," he said sharply, interrupting her. "By the Light, Maerad, you must have _completely _forgotten everything about me if you could think I would ever – _ever_ – " He cut himself off and looked quickly away from her, covering his mouth with his hand to cover his almost over boiling anger.

Maerad waited for what felt an eternity – not moving, not speaking, merely watching him, longing to put her fingers to his face again and not quite daring to at the same time.

Finally, Cadvan's hand dropped away from his mouth and he looked back at her.

"Maerad, you are…you are important to me." His voice was rough with suppressed emotion. "You are still part of my life no matter how different it is, do you understand that? Even if I'm nothing in yours – "

"Cadvan!"

" – _Even if I'm nothing in yours_, you are still in mine – of course you are, of course you will always be. I should have told you about Nerili. I did not want you to find out in this way."

Maerad bit her lip.

"It doesn't matter," she lied. "I don't mind. And you – you are part of my new life too. You…" But she could say no more, and looked away.

Cadvan's hand moved fleetingly across the barrier of the table and took hers in a warm, gentle grasp. Maerad felt as though the sun had just come out to engulf her in bright, sparkling sunlight, and she took in a shuddering breath.

"I need your help," Cadvan urged. "Maerad, I can't do this alone. I just can't. I can't imagine facing the Dark without your help. Will you please stay – at least to help with the committee decisions?"

As if she could leave him now, after so long, after so much distance between them.

She squeezed his hand.

"I will," she promised.

* * *

The faces of the committee were grim when Maerad entered later on, and she felt a wave of foreboding as she approached the table. Cadvan was staring down at a piece of parchment and his face was lined with strain. He glanced up when she came in, then paused and waved the piece of paper.

"Another letter from Enkir."

Maerad took the letter from his slightly shaking hand; she had not seen him look more agonised than right now, right at this moment, and her heart clenched in panic; what had Enkir sent?

She turned her eyes to the letter.

_To my _dear _Cadvan of Norloch,_

_As I am sure you are aware (and I would be _most _disappointed if you were not), our attack on Annar is beginning. There is nothing you can do to end it, nothing you can give us, nothing you can bribe us with. We desire blood and death, Cadvan of Norloch, and we shall have it. We will have what should have been ours before you and your precious Fire Lily decided to interfere with our plans. We shall have Annar and you can do nothing to stop us._

_Sharma should be leading us. Thanks to you, he is not. But I shall take his place. I shall be as terrible and wonderful as he – if not more. I shall have glory. I want my glory! I _deserve_ my glory!_

_And – just to make sure of this – we shall eliminate your closest allies first. You thought I had one army, I suppose? Oh, how very wrong you are…_

_One army is proceeding South, to the new Turbansk. Another across the oceans to that charming Thorold. And one to Innail, where we shall deal with your valiant Lily once and for all. Please _do _warn the Schools mentioned of our imminent arrival – we love a good reception. And if this was too easy, we would soon get bored._

_Oh, and as for your little scouts that you sent to spy on us? Their heads are en route. I hope you have fun explaining their deaths to their families._

_This should show you I am indeed quite serious._

_Oh yes. Very. Very serious._

_Enkir._

* * *

**Dun dun duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! A cliffhanger, yes, I'm evil :) I hope you enjoyed this - if you did, PLEASE REVIEW. Reviews make authors smile :). Next chapter should be up sooooon! Thank you! x**


	7. Once Again

**Kays, here it is again! sorry, things have been crazy for the both of us lately, but this one's extra, EXTRA long to make up for that. Hope you like it, even though I warn you, it's a bit sad...**

_Sound the bugle now.  
Play it just for me.  
As the seasons change,  
Remember how I used to be.  
Now I can't go on;  
I can't even start.  
I've got nothing left, just an empty heart.  
I'm a soldier, wounded so I must give up the fight.  
There's nothing more for me.  
Lead me away, or leave me lyin' here_

_**-- Sound the Bugle, Bryan Adams**_

Maerad stared in silence at the letter, her eyes unmoving, only gazing upon the faded writing with a mixed expression of shock and horror. Soon her blue orbs glazed over, and she staggered back, feeling faint, and the letter flapped in her trembling hand as the shock finally sank in. Cadvan stepped forwards, as if in concern, but a swift glance from most of the council members made him meekly back away as Maerad tried to master herself. She took a deep, shuddering breath and then looked up, eyes filling with tears that threatened to pool over in an immense wave of emotion.

_I can't act like this, _she told herself firmly as she bit back the tears. _I am the First Bard of Innail. Maerad of Pellinor; Maerad of Innail, Elednor Edil-Amarandh na. Innail may be assuaged by dark forces, but that doesn't mean we'll give up. And I must be strong for that reason. _For a moment, she simply closed her eyes and breathed, and then found the courage to look back at them, her posture straight and hard as she tried to hide her internal agony.

"Well, I…This is a mistake," she said at last, shaking her head woefully. "I must return. To Innail. They need me." Desperation suddenly took hold of her, and she felt its binding hands pulling her, and already she was back at Innail. "Don't you see? Enkir's going to attack?" she said, waving her hands to the window. "In a few days, all of Annar could be assailed."

"So what do we do?" asked Cadvan, feeling strangely calm in the midst of all the turmoil. She looked up into his eyes, and suddenly wanted to simply sit there and gaze into those sapphire jewels that had so captivated her from the beginning. He was the rock in her storm, the one place of solid ground she had to stand on. It had always been that way. And to think, she had almost entirely cut him out of her life yesterday, as if he were just a patch on the quilt of her life that could simply be re-sown with something better.

_But there wasn't anything better._

She wrenched her eyes away, heart pounding as the pain of losing him caught up with her again. For there wasn't anything better, but he belonged to Nerili now…

Breathing heavily, she looked around the table, a demanding presence taking over her demeanor, and her eyes were cold.

Cadvan watched, and waited silently for what she had to say. When Maerad spoke, people listened, and he was not excluded from that group.

"We must fight him," she said, gathering her skirts in her hand and stepping upon the table. All of them gazed up at her without surprise; it seemed like the sort of thing she would do. She stood proud and straight and looked at them all. "That is why we must fight. Saliman will go back to the new Turbansk, and defend it with his life," she said, nodding to him. Her voice carried effortlessly as emotion began to fill her voice. "Nerili will go back to Busk and do the same," she said, and Cadvan saw the skin around her eyes tighten, and a smile slightly lifted his lips. "And I will return to Innail," she said, voice shaking, "And will give it my all." She pushed some hair back from her forehead, and lifted her chin with the same old stubbornness that Cadvan loved.

_Loved? Surely…I don't love it. Fondness, that's it. The stubbornness I'm fond of, _he corrected himself quickly, before listening to the rest of her speech.

"Cadvan of Norloch will stay here, to defend his city in case Enkir changes his plans," she said, more quietly now, and Cadvan tried to tell himself that he was imagining the pain in her eyes. "And First Bards from all schools will be distributed evenly among the attacked cities, for their power combined will help us greatly." Maerad pursed her lips a moment, and then looked at her feet. When she looked up, her eyes were grim. "And then perhaps we will survive."

Everyone was silent, and not a soul stirred in the forgotten silence as each contemplated her or his own thoughts.

Maerad was quiet as she slowly walked the length of the table, and Cadvan wordlessly helped her down. He set her upon the ground, but didn't loosen his hold on her and he stared wordlessly at her, while Maerad looked miserably up into his eyes. The council members didn't notice their silent exchange and only sat, forlornly regarding their options. But neither Maerad nor Cadvan noticed the others either, and they just looked searchingly into one another's faces. Maerad felt his breath against her cheek, and his eyes boring holes into her own.

_Maerad, you can't really…go…_

_I have to. It's Innail._

_But…_

_Cadvan, let me go._

_Maerad, please…_A sudden desperation gripped him, and he tightened his hold around her.

Her eyes widened. _Cadvan, I have to defend Innail. And you have a new life here._

_But you are part of my new life, remember?_

_I am, Cadvan, and you in mine. But that's just it. It's a new life. New. _

_Maerad, I won't let you leave me again._

_You left me last time._

_You made me!_

Maerad gasped and tore herself away. "I've got to go now. I can't stay here any longer," she whispered. "Innail needs my help…I'll….I'll send letters," she said, but it came out as a quiet sob, before she turned and ran.

"Maerad!" he cried, before he could stop himself, and the council of Bards looked on in surprise. He gazed at them, breathing harshly, before he quickly asked, "We'll take her plan. Is the vote unanimous?"

They nodded wordlessly.

"Good. Meeting is adjourned," he said raggedly, and then took off after Maerad.

"Maerad!" Cadvan shouted as he plunged through the oaken doors, looking this way and that, his eyes ablaze, almost as if with insanity.

_She can't leave. She…she left once, and I…I couldn't handle it…_

He took a deep breath, looking around, and ran down the corridor that led to her room, and threw open the door, praying he wasn't too late, praying they could work things out. He hadn't meant to say what he had; he had never meant to hurt her. He hadn't wanted to say it…

He ran through the door, breath having ceased to issue from his lips in his desperation.

And she wasn't there.

It was deserted.

Empty.

He sank to his knees in shock. She really was gone. And once more they were apart. Once more, he hadn't said what he had wanted to, and things had ended in disaster. He had let himself get too wrapped up in unimportant things; things so insignificant it almost hurt to think about them. All that mattered was them. He hated to admit it, but she was the one who kept him awake at night, her imaginary fingers stroking his cheek, her imaginary lips murmuring sweet nothings like she always used to. It was all he had wanted; to see her again…and now he had gone and ruined it all, and he had _let her leave. _He couldn't take it anymore. He just wanted all his feelings to dissolve, to simply let go, to end anything unimportant and only focus on what mattered…but he didn't and it was too late.

_And I never said goodbye._

* * *

Maerad ran down to the stables, her eyes filled with tears. She didn't bother going to her room to get her belongings, she knew it would just be the first place Cadvan looked. Instead, she flew into the stables, surprising all the horses.

Darsor, still Cadvan's stallion, nickered to her over his door, but Maerad didn't stop to greet him. She hurried into Imi's stall, which was next to the great stallion's, and threw on her tackle with unnatural haste.

_Maerad! Is something wrong? _asked Imi in concern.

_What does it look like? _she hissed through tears.

Imi lowered her ears in distaste. _Maerad, will you tell me what's going on?_

_I don't want to talk about it…_she whispered, biting back tears.

Darsor watched, ears pricked, and then shook his great black head. _Cadvan told you, didn't he?_

_Told me what? _She asked, without turning around, and her hands were shaking as she tightened the straps on Imi's saddle, and the mare threw up her head when she pulled it up too far in her agitation.

_You know well what I mean, Maerad._

_Oh yeah? So what if he did? He has his life now…he has Neri. He can do what he wants. I just don't want him to drag me into it._

_But Maerad…_

_Don't do this to me, Darsor. If he can't decide what he wants in his life, then I'll decide for him. And again, it's my fault, _she said bitterly as she pulled Imi's headstall roughly over her ears.

_What, did he say that?_

_Not in so many words…_

_You know he does not mean it, _Darsor said quietly. _He just does not want you to leave. Maerad, listen to me: When we rode to Norloch those ten years ago, he was heartbroken. And I do not think…I do not think he ever got over it. And I don't think you did either. And now the slightest thing will set you both off balance. Listen to your heart, Maerad. Please, don't be rash. You balance on the edge of a knife._

Maerad was silent, pondering his wisdom, but she pursed her lips and mounted Imi before she looked back at him.

_Darsor…if you see him, tell him I…I…_

_Yes?_

Maerad shook her head, tears now streaming openly from her face, and she kicked Imi much harder than necessary, and the mare leapt sideways and reared slightly before galloping out upon nimble feet, as fast as she could go, for she felt her mistress's desperation as her own.

Darsor stared sadly after them, and then called after them with a piercing neigh.

Maerad paid it no heed and only spurred Imi faster. The mare, sensing her discomfort nickered sympathetically despite the rough way in which Maerad was treating her. Maerad felt a flood of guilt washing over her, but she didn't know what it was for…Imi, Cadvan, or herself.

But she ignored that as well, and once she had passed the gates of Norloch, she flew over the downs and disappeared upon the horizon, fading into the grey skies like the migratory birds that fly far, far away…

But sometimes, those birds return…

* * *

Cadvan lay sprawled upon _her _bed, unable to drag himself away from _her _room. He was pale, lethargic, and disbelieving of all that had happened. _She _had left. He had ruined it all again. And now, _she_ wasn't coming back.

_Damn you, Cadvan,_ he growled to himself, pushing back the hair from his forehead in an exasperated way when he finally noticed it. He furiously clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to master his grief and annoyance with himself.

Why had he said that to her? Why had he said she made him do it? It had just woken up all those old agonies and pains within them, and he had known as soon as the words were out of his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say, and he desperately wished he could take it back. But it had been too late, and he had seen that pain in her eyes…the horror, the sadness, and something else he didn't care to name…

_She hates me now, _he thought dolefully. _I'm sure of it._

He sighed, knowing this thinking wasn't getting him anywhere, and decided to go back to his office and calm himself down, and possibly have a drink…or a few drinks…He just hoped he wouldn't see anyone along the way.

With great difficult, he threw his legs over the edge of the downy mattress, and pushed himself up before he took a few hesitant steps to the door. His hand on the knob, he looked back over his shoulder.

The room was untouched, and looked as if it were holding its breath, waiting for some indefinable, but inevitable, explosion. It seemed to be silently watching him, waiting for him to do something, but he didn't know what. It was Maerad's room. And he couldn't do anything to it. A fierce possessiveness welled over him, and he opened the door and walked quickly out before he shut it and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Then he took out a key in his shaking fingers and locked it.

There. No more Maerad. Maybe in that room he had locked up _their_ soul, and all the horrible memories she had stolen from him. In that room, he could hide all the things she had said, and the things she had done. And all the things they never would do. In that room, he shut away the truths of what he wanted; all his wildest hopes and dreams.

In her room, he shut away any possibilities of a 'them.'

"There," he breathed with a finalization he did not feel, before he walked away from the sad, empty room.

* * *

"Come in," Cadvan called in a monotone as he stared out the window of his chamber.

He didn't turn around, but he heard the door open and then softly close, and gentle footsteps coming hesitantly towards him.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, imagining that it was Maerad. She would come back and stand in front of the door for minutes on end, nervously biting her lip, before she would sweep back her hair away from her face and tentatively knock. She would hear his voice, and guilt would wash over her as she slowly walked in, running over words to say in her brain. She would see him, and want to apologize desperately, and walk uncertainly over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He would turn and see her face, and when their eyes met, they wouldn't have to say anything, and they would know, and all would be forgiven.

But he knew it wasn't true, and he turned to look at the person coming in and saw that it was Nerili.

"Greetings, Nerili," he said tiredly. "What brings you here?"

Nerili saw that he was as stone, as unfilled with emotion as a lifeless rock. It hurt her to know that he was suffering like that, and it hurt her even more to know that she was one of the causes for that suffering.

"Cadvan," she said timidly, "we need to talk."

He normally would have raised an eyebrow in surprise, but he just nodded and offered her a seat, wordlessly pouring them drinks. She was silent until he handed her the wine and sat down, and then she set the drink down and took one of his hands, tracing the weathered lines and scars gently while trying to make up her mind.

"Many years ago," she began, "You came to Busk. Oh, you were the charmer, even if you were still trying to get over Ceredin's death. You still had your looks, and your witty words and sense of humor. I couldn't blame myself for falling in love with you; every other petty, foolish girl I know did. But what surprised me was when you started showing interest in _me, _a fiery little Thoroldian maid. I was thrilled, but at the same time, I suspected something."

She paused, as if judging his reactions, but he waved at her to go on. She took another deep breath, knowing that this was as hard for him as it was for her, even though it was not for the same reasons.

"I thought you might be using me to get over Ceredin's death. Surely, the thought only lurked in the back of my mind, but you didn't look at me like I was the only thing in the world. My other friends had lovers who did, and when I saw them, so very much in love, something made me see that I would never be like that with you. And this nagging doubt pursued, threatening our relationship, until finally we had that argument."

Nerili took a sip from her laradhel, feeling it burning down her throat, before she went on in a shaky voice. "You said that Norloch needed you. You said that fate worked in strange ways, and something was drawing you back to help your country. You said you needed to pay your dues for what you had done. I argued all those points, saying fate had brought you to _me, _saying you had paid your debts twice over already. But you refused, and that was when I knew that my fears were true, and you left, and I didn't see you again for almost 30 years…

"But then who should turn up on my doorstep one day but you and your companion, Maerad of Pellinor. She was a shy, charming thing, but I could sense the great power she held within, and even scent her Thoroldian blood, burning bright within like the Fire Lily she was. Is. At first, I felt pity for her, to be traveling with you," she admitted, stirring her glass distractedly, "I thought she must be some sort of compensation for Ceredin as well, and I didn't want one such as her to be hurt like that. But then I began to see things, things almost unnoticeable: I saw the way she would stare from one of us to the other when we talked of our past selves, and the jealousy that haunted her eyes, even though she tried desperately not to show it. I saw how she would turn her face away whenever we spoke of the ways of the hearts. But I saw more things…I saw the way you would unconsciously grasp her hands, or stare at her in silent tenderness whenever she leaned closer to you. I thought perhaps maybe this was your chance to let go, and mine as well. I thought maybe this girl, this girl who was blossoming into the beauty of her womanhood, would be the one who set us both free into our true selves.

"And Cadvan," she said, looking up, eyes shining with tears. "She was. For a time. Too short a time, I might add. And then you came back, and I was here again, and once more, I was the one who compensated for your loss. And again, you were the one who accepted my affection, and even cherished it – for a time. But then, just a little while ago, she came back, and I could see it in your eyes: you thought you hid it well, Cadvan, but you didn't. I was horribly jealous, and I was filled with pain, because I knew it would happen again. But I was also a bit…happy, Cadvan. I wanted you to be happy, and I want me to be happy, too. And who are we kidding? I could never be happy with you, and never could you be happy with me when all you wanted was her. And so I've been thinking, Cadvan," she said slowly, getting up and walking to the window, while he watched, his heard pounding, "I was thinking that maybe, we should…"

"Neri, are you saying…"

"Cadvan, yes. I'm thinking we should…we should…we should call of the marriage," she said at last. She took a deep breath. "Cadvan, we know it's not working. We've known it for a while. Maerad just made us realize it, and truly _see _it. And perhaps, Maerad has not destroyed us, but has instead saved us from the horror and sadness we would become, as I hoped she would all those years ago." She turned around, gazing at him with woeful, and yet glad, eyes.

Cadvan stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment. She had been so obsessed with this marriage, and it was hard to believe that their engagement – their very _engagement _– was something she could call off. But here she was, standing before him in all seriousness, doing that very same thing. He stood up, heart pounding, and took her hands in his. He fingered the ring on her hand. "Nerili, are you…are you sure?"

"As sure as I ever have been," she said quietly, and slipped off the glittering diamond, reflecting privately that she still wasn't so sure at all, but she did it all the same. Taking a deep breath, she quickly handed it to him, but he put a hand up.

"Neri, keep it. To…to remember me. Not as your lover, but as your friend." He smiled uncertainly, wrapping her in a tender embrace. She felt tears in the corners of her eyes, but smiled and held him tightly for the last time. Then she stepped back and they both breathed steadily for a few moments, before Nerili bowed and stepped away towards the door.

"Well, I must go back to Busk. Um…wish us luck. In the battle, I mean. May the Light shine onto your path," she said, a bit awkwardly.

"And unto yours," he said. "Farewell, Nerili."

He smiled as she left, but turned around surprised as she re-entered. "Yes?"

"There's one more thing I forgot to say…"

"Yes?" he said again.

"I'm wishing you luck as well. For Norloch certainly, but more for you and Maerad." She smiled softly. "Win her again, Cadvan. You were always meant for her, and she for you. Just wanted you to know that."

His face was astonished as she left, and this time, she did not come back.

Cadvan sank into a chair and stared at his laradhel for a few minutes, unable to process any thoughts. But suddenly, it was as if something clicked in his brain, and he hurriedly stood up and flew to his desk, where he sat down, dipped a pen in ink, and began furiously writing one more letter.

**1 WEEK LATER**

Maerad strode through the iron outposts of Innail, shouting orders emotionlessly and fighting alongside her fellow swordsmen and women as they battled. They were already hard pressed, and even the full of Enkir's soldiers had not dared pass through their defenses.

"Cowards," she muttered as she climbed the stairs to the northernmost tower, her mail and battle armor jingling as she galloped up the stairs. But in all honesty, she was glad of it. Their forces weren't nearly as strong as she wanted them to be, and with the fighting that had already ensued, she knew it would be a nightmarish battle ahead of them when the true strength of Enkir's army cast its iron fist upon them.

She threw open the door at the top of the tower, lunging through and walking into the room to see Indik and Camphis conversing over a series of documents and weaponry. She saluted them with her sword, and stepped forwards and looked over the papers, pushing stray hairs back into the tight twist she wore it in for battle.

"Is there a problem, gentleman? We need you and your skills out defending the gate. Even the best trained students of yours, Indik," she said, glancing pointedly at him, "can't defend it by themselves for long."

Camphis nodded, passing his hand over his face and scratching his chin distractedly. "We were trying to see who to deploy where," he sighed, gesturing to the many leaflets on the table before them. "And Maerad, if I may say so, I won't lie to you: It will be a miracle if any of us get out of this alive."

Indik raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's blunt. But while we're still breathing, there's hope." He smiled a savage sort of smile, and then picked up his sword. "To the gates then," he said, before quickly striding from the room and heading into the chaos beyond.

Maerad nodded after him, and then looked to Camphis, studying him in the low light. In the past few hours, he had changed. Once being the care-free friend she knew, to this strange, frightened warrior before her, who was yet strangely determined. He seemed smaller in the light, though, and Maerad wondered again at what terror could do to a person. She tried to smile encouragingly, but it ended up as more of a grimace.

"Camphis, you can go to the gates, as well. Stay on the upper wall, to the right by the watchtower. There is where we are hard pressed."

He nodded, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Maerad, rest a moment. You're awfully pale. We can handle it for a while."

"No," she said, more sharply than intended, and tried to soften her demeanor. "No, I must stay and defend. All around Innail this is happening, and no one else acquires a break, even after some have laid down their lives," she said, choking up. A tiny bright tear slipped down her cheek.

He looked immeasurably sad. "None of us want to die, Maerad. But all of us would for Innail."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. How shameful, to start crying in the face of battle! "I know. As would I. And I don't want anyone to die, so I will come as well."

A hint of his old mischievousness crossed his façade. "Fighting together like old times, eh, Maerad?"

"Not fighting in the same sense," she said, thinking of their many arguments as a couple. She smiled. "But close enough."

_If I do get out of this alive, I promise never to kill anyone again, _Maerad thought, revolted by the blood spattered across her face, running into her eyes and blinding her, sticky as it attached her hands to her sword, which was black with it.

A soldier who might've been insane if not for the coolly conscious look in his eyes was battling her at the moment. His strokes were wild, but never seemed to miss their mark. He was wounded, and yet still kept fighting, even as blood poured from his side. But Maerad could sense him weakening. Repulsed, Maerad closed her eyes and dealt the fatal stroke as he sank to his knees before her. Such poor men…fighting, dying…

But these thoughts passed in a moment, as she was swept around to face a brutishly large wer, who beat its awful wings against her as it started to transform. Before it could fully become man, though, she blasted it with the White Flame and it screamed, writhing in agony, as it turned slowly to ashes.

_Nice shot, _she heard Camphis say into her mind. She looked out of the corner of her eye and saw him as he fiercely battled a Hull sorcerer. She bit her lip, fearing for him.

_Do you need any help? _She asked, right before she was assaulted by three wers at once. _Not that I can give it at the moment._

Maerad heard his laughter echoing inside her head, but it was forced, and strained. _No, you stay where you…_

Silence covered her mind. There was nothing, and the connection between them shivered and collapsed into dust, as if it never was.

_Camphis? _She asked, frightened, her panicky strokes giving her the edge on the battle. She was now down to just one wer, and its head she easily hacked off after a momentary struggle. Blood spurted at her feet, and she thought she might be sick, but her overpowering desperation to find Camphis forced all thoughts of that from her mind.

"Camphis!" she screamed aloud.

Ugh…I…I'm he..re…

_Where? _She practically shouted, stepping over corpses and attacking other members of Enkir's army as she went along.

Wat…ch…tower…

"By the Light," she rasped, coughing as smoke assailed her lungs. Burning. And it was coming form the watch tower.

"No!" she shouted, but it was not heard above the cacophony of battle. Her steps became increasingly urgent, and she glimmered faintly with magery in her distress. Finally, she approached the tower, heart pounding in her throat, and gasped. The entire building was on fire, and Camphis was fiercely battling a hull below the burning mass, no matter that one of his hands had been hacked off, and he was being beaten by the hull's cruel mace. She arrived in time to see his sword knocked from his hand, and the hull stood above him, cackling as it raised the deadly weapon, the sharp points glinting in the light of the fire. She screamed and raised her hands, shooting points of White Fire at the dark creature before her. But it was too late, and his hand struck the blow as he toppled, and Camphis cried out in pain.

"No…" she whispered, and ran to him, sweat from the heat of the flames dripping down her face. She dropped by his side, and tried to heal him, but the injuries were extensive, and blood was everywhere. Everywhere, soaking into her clothes, her skin, her own blood. It mingled everywhere; there was nothing but blood. It was black, it was red, it ran cold, it ran hot…but it was just blood, blood, everywhere.

"Camphis, Camphis, can you hear me?" she asked, again and again. How she wished she knew his truename, so she could call him back, just as Cadvan had used to…

She shook those thoughts away; she had enough reason for tears already, some of which were rolling down her nose and cheeks and falling onto his face. His eyes cracked open slightly. "Maer…" he didn't have enough strength to finish her name. She bit her lip. She knew he was going to die, but she couldn't do a thing except ease his suffering. So she began to sing; soft, senseless melodies that she hoped were soothing to the ears. She sang little rhymes that were ridden with her sobs, sang stories and nursery rhymes she remembered hearing children sing in Innail. Would there ever be peace like that again? Perhaps this, his death, her singing, were the last things either of them would know. But maybe, it was just the fuel they needed, the fuel that would start the fire of passion; a passion of their love for Innail, and all that was worthy of beauty and love and goodness. And there would be peace.

So as Camphis of Innail died in her arms, she looked up with hatred. Because these people had ruined her peace. With Cadvan, with Camphis, with Innail, with the whole of Edil-Amarandh. And it wasn't fair. So she would win her peace back.

She stepped away from him with the final breath of her melody, unwilling to leave, but knowing she had to go and defend the peace that was hers.

And everyone else's by right. And the tower collapsed upon the place where she had just been, engulfing his body and the other corpses in flames, before it guttered out under the storming of the dark skies above, which washed the blood away.

And there would be more blood. But it was not shed needlessly. So as Maerad saluted the remains of her friend, she knew that he had died for a reason.

And so would she.

* * *

Maerad sighed as she came into the tower again. Enkir had given them brief respite – for the moment at least. She stormed into the tower and plopped herself down in a chair, covering her face with her hands in exhaustion and sadness. No one said anything, and finally, she looked up, dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks red and splotchy from crying.

"Camphis is dead," she said flatly. Kelia looked up, dark eyes wide, and her face went whiter than the leaf of paper she had been showing to Indik.

"What did you say?" she whispered. The bard's hands trembled. Maerad cursed inwardly; she had forgotten that Kelia had feelings for the man.

She stood up and unashamedly put her arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Kelia," she said, more tears streaming from her eyes and stinging her cheeks.

Kelia started silently sobbing, her shoulders shaking as she clutched Maerad to her, seeking comfort none could give. No one could fix a broken heart, she thought painfully.

"Why?" Kelia wailed when her breath rushed back into her lungs. Violent sobs poured from her lips, and her tears were as many as the raindrops. "Why him? He was such a good man…he _died _for Innail…why? _Why?"_

"I know, I know," she murmured, trying to be soothing. The other bards were silent, and the grief in the room rose like a flood as they suffered along with the others, themselves knowing how horrible the agony of loss could be.

Kelia quieted for a time, and then stood up straight, running her hands through her dark hair. "If I do anything more," she said, her voice slightly shaky, "I will avenge his death."

"We all will. We all will." It was the first time Maerad smiled such a smile that day. A horrible, savage smile. Maerad would. She would avenge everything she wanted and all that she couldn't have.

"I will avenge my love," she and Kelia whispered as one, and their smiles, for one moment, were bright, and there was in that dark room, a fleeting glimpse of hope.

**new chapter up whenever we can get it up. remember, we like reviews! -wink-**


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